


Promptober (Procrastinating My Actual Work)

by Inareskai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A collection of things, Angst, Dudley Redemption, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Granger Family Meetings, One Word Prompts, Other, Promptober, granger family dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 22,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inareskai/pseuds/Inareskai
Summary: A collection of fics based on the some silly October Prompts.Includes Dudley redemption, silliness, sadness, an exploration of the Granger family dynamics, fluff, angst. Honestly, all the things.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Dudley Dursley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	1. Sunrise

It hadn’t exactly been easy with Rose. It had been long, and tiring, and painful. And that was just for Ron. But this time round, it seemed that whatever could go wrong was going wrong, and that’s not something anyone wants to happen during labour.

Firstly, the baby was early. Not so early it was super scary early, but early enough to be a little bit concerning. The midwitch ended up calling for a back up healer.

‘Better safe than sorry’ she’d said, a bit too cheerfully for Ron’s liking given the stress levels in the situation.

Secondly, she wasn’t the midwitch they’d been seeing for months, she’d suddenly been off sick this week due to a contagious round of Senferam Fever on one of the post-natal wards. They’d spent ages getting to know Sally, Hermione had every confidence in her and she’d also been a muggleborn. The replacement was clearly competent, but if she made one come comment about how birth was ‘faster and easier for muggleborns!’ Ron anticipated there’d be a murder as well as a birth.

Thirdly, they’d sent Rose to Hermione’s parents, only to have them call back 3 hours later because she was having a monster tantrum and had ended up making herself sick. Ron had rushed out to soothe her but found that in the grand scheme of things it was better to just bring her home. Helen had come back with them, so at least Ron could be at Hermione’s side despite Rose still being in the house.

And that didn’t even cover the series of ‘smaller’ things. They hadn’t expected him to come, so they were out of tea bags. The labour had come on hard and strong but little progress was made to actually getting the baby out – no fault of Hermione’s, that’s just how labour goes sometimes, he knew that – all while the pain potions were getting less and less effective.

Eventually they had to make the call to move them to St Mungo’s. Things were just unmanageable without the equipment. Rose by this point was thankfully fast asleep so could be gently left in Helen’s care, although it was clear she was getting concerned with the state of her daughter. She fretted as they walked out the door.

Not for the first time Ron was exceptionally glad that they had chosen to make a home in the city, rather than out in the country like his siblings and parents. Hermione had argued that it was much easier for her parents to see them if they were in London, and the reason the others lived so far out was because it was simple for magical folk to travel, so why not apply the same logic to his family visiting them in London? They enjoyed strolls in the muggle park too, being embedded in the city meant he could more easily begin to understand the non-magical world that his children had as much as a birth right to as they did the magical one.

They couldn’t floo or apparate, not at this stage. It turned out that all midwatches were required to learn how to drive muggle cars and Ron now understood why.

They arrived at St Mungo’s rushed through to one of the private birthing rooms they both knew was reserved for cases that may need more intervention. He whispered sweet things to Hermione, true things about all the brave things she’d ever done and how well she was doing, how he could not love her more. Gave her the backrubs he knew relieved the pressure a little bit. And so they kept on going. He hated watching her in pain, it brought back memories he wished he didn’t have. But just like with Rose, there was a light at the end of this tunnel, they’d hear the baby cry and her efforts would not have been in vain.

Finally, at some horrendous hour in the early morning, after a long, long labour. Hugo Arthur entered the world.

And he didn’t make a sound. Not one.

He gripped Hermione’s had even tighter, as she begged for answers. Was he alright? What was happening? Where was her baby? The midwitch spun her wand once, cueing and alert to the neo-natal team.

The room was getting darker, Ron was sure of it. He had no idea what the time was, but the time spanned into what he was sure were seconds but felt like hours. A fear gripped him unlike any other he’d felt before.

The emergency team rushed in, headed by Niamh Goodard, who had been their midwitch when they had Rose. She stepped in with a frown of concern but an additional aura of control, she knew what she was doing, things would be ok. She picked up their tiny new born son, and blew gently onto his lips.

And, just as the first rays of sunlight burst through the small window, their son took his first breath.


	2. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 1. 
> 
> He's not sure he deserves to be saved.

He sat at the kitchen table. Still. Silent.

Harry was long gone, back to his world which seemed to be full of monsters. Or was it, hadn’t Dudley learned what monsters really look like that day, when he’d finally seen the one thing he’d avoided for years.

It was a hard pill to swallow. That he hadn’t deserved to be saved. Especially not by Harry.

‘Dudders?’ his mother’s voice brought him back to the immaculate kitchen. ‘Dudders, sweetie, don’t you want to go and meet some friends? Or go outside and play? Or are you hungry? I could cook you something if you’d like?’

No. No, he didn’t want anything. He didn’t want to see his ‘friends’. He didn’t want to go out. And he definitely didn’t want to eat.

‘Oh, are you still tired from… the _incident?_ ’ She reduced her final words to a whisper. ‘Maybe you should go and watch some TV? You know the show where they follow people round and learn all their dirty secrets is on, your favourite!’

‘I’m alright mum. I think I will go out for a bit… see what Piers is up to.’ The second part was a downright lie. But she didn’t question it. He doubted she even really realised he was lying to her, why would she? He’d lied so many times in the past and never been caught.

He left the house. It was still hot, sticky. The last dregs of summer clinging on before the autumn settled in. He’d be going back to school soon. He was struck by a sudden dread, what must his classmates actually think of him? Or worse, what if they were _like_ him? That’s where his dad went after all, and his discoveries about himself reflected on his parents too.

Lost in his thoughts he turned a corner and walked into Mrs Figg, the old bat who lived down the road and looked after Harry every time his family decided they didn’t want him.

‘Watch it lad! You could mow a woman down!’ She exclaimed, her voice sounding frail and quiet.

‘Oh, uh. Sorry.’ He muttered. Moving to skirt round her.

‘What did you just say?’ Her voice was suddenly sharp.

‘Um. Sorry?’ He repeated. Was she hard of hearing? Perhaps that was it.

‘You’ve never said sorry in your life.’ She accused. ‘At least, not unprompted when your parents needed to save face.’ She stared at him shrewdly. ‘I bet those dementors ran you a bit ragged.’

Despite the heat he felt the sweat pool at the back of his neck and goose bumps spread across his arms.

‘You know about that. You’re one of _them_?’ He breathed out.

‘Yes and no.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that I know about it all, as much – probably more so – than you do. But no, I am not one of them.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘If you want to talk about it more, come round for tea tomorrow. 6:30. If you don’t, don’t.’ She doddered away, as though the conversation had never happened.

Did he want to know more? The idea seemed tantalising, so forbidden yet so something he’d always wanted. The same way people watch horror films, he’d been taught to fear this information, yet he wanted to know. He’d been taught not to see himself for what he truly was, yet as much as the information hurt he craved more.

So, at 6:15 the next evening, telling his parents he was going out with the lads, he went to Mrs Figgs. It was as full of cats as he remembered his parents mentioning. So many parts of him called out insults in his parent’s voices.

_So many animals, not a ruddy collar, irresponsible pet ownership at its finest._ Boomed his father.

_Look how much hair there is, she has no pride in her home._ He imagined is mother getting out the handkerchief she used to touch items she deemed to be particularly unclean.

But he wanted to be better. Right now the only way he could think of to be do that was at least listen to what she said.

‘Oh you came. It was a bit in the air wasn’t it?’ She greeted. ‘Come in, I made Cottage Pie.’

He balked slightly at such a hearty meal in the middle of this heat, but he liked the meal and wasn’t going to complain. No matter how much it tempted him.

‘Sit, sit!’ Her kitchen was hot and cramped, the pie must have been cooking for some time and the eat of the over combined with the heat of the day was stifling. ‘I’ve made some boiled cabbage to go along side. Would you like a drink? I’ve got water or dandelion cordial.’

‘Just water is fine.’ He paused. ‘Uh, thanks.’

She nodded at him with an air of approval he didn’t quite understand then passed him a glass of water. In a matter of minutes, they sat across from each other in her stuffy kitchen, occasionally visited by a passing cat.

‘So, what did you want to know?’

He was on he spot. He hadn’t come up with any questions in advance. He scrambled around for something to not make himself sound stupid.

‘So you can’t do it then?’

She frowned in response. Damn. That had definitely made him sound stupid.

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Then how do you know about it. Did you have a cousin too? Or were you like my mum?’

She paused, as though she was weighing up the best way to answer.

‘I suppose I was like your mum, except all of my family were m…’ She noticed him flinch. ‘Like Harry. You should get used to the words, but we’ll get there. My family were all like Harry. Then I wasn’t.’

‘Oh.’

She looked at him again with a strange, penetrating stare.

‘It took a long time to come to terms with. But I’ve made peace with it. I’ve made a life. One foot in each door.’

‘So not quite like my mum?’

She smirked. ‘No, not quite like your mum.’

For some reason, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt safer than he had ever really remembered feeling. He could say what he wanted without getting told off, but also without being coddled.

‘I don’t know where to go. From here.’ He admitted. Strange, to say something so personal to someone he really hadn’t spent much time with. ‘I want to be better. Than the me I was. I suppose the me I am now. I don’t want to be the me I saw. Is that what everyone sees?’

‘No, it’s not what everyone sees. I hear the taunts from when my sister’s friends found out I wasn’t like them. The rumour is your cousin hears his parent’s being murdered and re-lives the memories of others he knows who he’s seen be tortured or killed.’

He gulped. ‘The others?’

‘Your cousin has lived a very hard life. And from the sounds of it you’re slowly coming to realise that you were a part of that. That you’ve made life even more miserable for people who needed a helping hand.’

He nodded, but his gut twisted uncomfortably. Perhaps she just wanted to tell him how awful he was. He’d understand, if that were the case.

‘As for where you go next. Well that’s a big question isn’t it. I think first things first you should deal with some of the superficial things.’

He frowned.

‘Yes, it seems counter intuitive. But the body heals faster than the mind. And sometimes it’s in healing the body that we learn how to take steps for the mind. Your father mentions that you do some boxing, correct?’

‘Yes. I do. I’m not bad at it. My coach says my stamina is low.’

‘Alright then, work on your stamina.’

‘But isn’t boxing a part of the bad things? All the bad things I am?’

‘You’re not bad things, Dudley.’ She said it softly but with conviction. He didn’t understand. ‘You’re young. And you’ve done bad things. But you are not a bad thing.’

‘I did so many bad things. Things I’ll never be able to undo.’

‘In life there are no do-overs. Only do-betters. Can you do better?’

‘I want to do better.’

‘Then work on your stamina boy, a run in the morning perhaps. Maybe every other day, since you’re starting out. And work hard when you get back to school.’

‘I… Can I come round for tea again? Before I go back to school… Please?’

She smiled at him properly for the first time. ‘I’d like that.’


	3. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be (not-so) young and in love.

Arthur watched through the window of the Burrow as his two youngest children pulled their respective other halves towards the orchard and the ‘Swimming Pond’ they’d played in as children. He smiled lightly, such a short time ago such adventures would have felt impossible. Molly certainly never would have let them out of her sight.

She still wasn’t always happy about it, seeing them walk away from where she knew she could come to their aid. But it was a slow process, learning to let go again.

The warmth of the summer spread through the unusually quite house. The ‘children’ were out, all off on their own adventures or missions of healing. George was off somewhere with Lee, not quite himself but then, would he ever be again? Percy was at work. Naturally. But he would be home for dinner. Arthur smiled again as the joy of Percy returning to them sparked up in him. Bill was in his own home, building his own family with Fleur, just as it should be. Charlie was with his dragons. Always dragons.

Fred was simply gone.

Arthur glanced at the clock where Fred’s hand stood still at ‘Lost’. Should they take it off? That seemed just as bad as leaving it there. He would need to ask Molly at some point, what did she think. Maybe he should ask the others too, they’d surely all have opinions. Even when they were still tiny, they’d had opinions. Some things don’t change.

Molly bustled into the kitchen, looking ready to get started on the preparations for the evening meal.

‘Where are Ron and Ginny?’ She asked, her voice forming a sort of forced casual.

‘They’ve taken the other two up to the Swimming Pond, I’m sure they’ll be back in time for food. Weasley’s don’t miss meals.’

She frowned slightly and he knew she was arguing with herself about whether they should call them back, make them stay close. Eventually she let out a long sigh, gave him a slightly smile, and said:

‘Well, they haven’t really been able to use it for a few years. I’m sure they’ll have fun.’

She was always so brave.

Arthur stood and held out his arms to her. Without hesitation she stepped into his embrace. There was no music, but they swayed together as though dancing to their own tune. Their song would be full of high notes, at least 7 – if not more, these days – points of wonder they’d brought into their song. And then some slower, sadder moments, as the song played out the ways in which life wasn’t fair.

He smiled down at her though, despite all the darkness they’d endured. He’d be alright as long as he had her to dance with.


	4. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry never saw it coming.

Harry was tired. So tired. It had been several long days and it was so damn hot in his Auror robes. The paperwork mountains were getting higher, the pressure from the legal teams was getting stronger, and the criminals weren’t getting any less freer.

He was frustrated and tired. And Ginny was going to be out tonight, which made matters even more depressing. He’d stayed late in the office, because well why bother going home to a house without Ginny in it?

He’d messaged her anyway – having finally convinced her that it was a good idea to get a muggle phone for when they were out and about – letting her know he would be getting in at about 7 and wishing her a good evening.

Ron was busy, he’d asked earlier, a night out with Hermione apparently. So that ruled out both of them.

Neville wasn’t picking up. Luna was out of the country somewhere; she’d definitely mentioned but he regularly lost track of her travels. George and Lee had said something suspicious and Harry considered that whatever they were doing wouldn’t be best with an Auror there – he’d either have to arrest them or be arrested by his own team. Neither appealed.

Sighing, he apparated to the village he and Ginny had finally settled on. He strolled along the dark lane out of the muggle area and towards their cottage.

Lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the fact some of his regular route had been changed, some rocks out of place, it was certainly more well-trodden than usual.

He got to the front door, placing his key in the lock, and paused.

Something wasn’t right.

It was too quiet around him, even the woods seemed still.

He’d relied on his instincts for so long now that he realised something was different, and kicked himself for not noticing sooner.

Controlling his breathing to make as little sound as possible, Harry gently opened the door and skirted into the dark house.

“SURPRISE!!”

The lights came on and everyone was there. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a startled laugh once his brain caught up with the fact there was no threat.

‘Happy 21st Birthday Harry!’ Ginny grinned at him from behind their sofa.

‘Early birthday,’ Ron chimed in. ‘Still got a few hours before midnight.’

‘Better get partying then! No one wants to be sober as they turn 21!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was suggested by my wonderful friend Siân, get used to this note because she was very helpful through the whole thing.


	5. Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the best way to love someone is to leave them.

It was always wonderful to pick Hermione up from the school train, to welcome her back to their home and get all the updates she’d not thought to put in her letters. Helen beamed and wrapped her daughter in her arms. Richard grabbed both of them into a tight hug as well, bringing them together as the three musketeers.

They always waited until she was away from her friends. They’d like to think she was mature enough to not shy away from their affection in public, but boundaries were also essential in developing a strong parent-child relationship.

She clung to them in a way they hadn’t experienced for a long time. She was 15 now, 16 this coming September, they hadn’t been hugged like this for years. They shared a look over the top of her head, this called for a family conference.

Naturally, they had take way from the local authentic Nepalese restaurant for tea, it was Hermione’s favourite after all and apparently not common fair at school. Still she was uncharacteristically quiet.

‘How is your crusade for the rights of the elves going darling?’ Richard asked. If anything would prompt her from her thoughts, it would be this.

‘Not so well. One or two sort of saw where I was coming from, but most avoided me. And my method of getting them freed meant they stopped cleaning the dorms for a while. The boys stunk.’

‘Ah, well that is how it goes. Were you still going for the gun’s blazing approach?’

‘Charge in and get the job done.’ Hermione nodded.

Sometimes Helen reflected on how much of her father was in her. Had they not communicated that this was not always the best approach sensitive topics. That was how Richard had ended up arrested after all. Honestly, of course they’d both been against the Vietnam War, but handcuffing himself to the railings at Trafalgar Square, what good had that done?

‘I see you’ve noted it doesn’t always work so well then?’ She asked.

‘No, I see your point. I just felt it was worth trying, and I didn’t get arrested like Dad did.’

‘Your mother is one to talk, just because she didn’t get arrested doesn’t mean she hasn’t done some things of questionable legality when it comes to protesting unjust acts.’

‘Would you do things you were scared of, or things you knew would impact your life forever, if you thought it would make things better and safer?’ Hermione asked with sudden urgency.

‘We have in the past, and we would now. Unless those actions would harm you, of course.’ Richard answered, carefully. ‘These days it’s a bit harder to make big political stances when we know it could put you in harm’s way.’

She thought for a moment. Helen knew this would be the moment, whatever was weighing on her would come out. But the longer she thought, the more Helen worried that it was going to be something much bigger than another falling out with Ron or some teasing from her dormmates.

‘What if,’ Hermione began. ‘What if the best way to keep me safe would be to forget about me?’

‘Forget about you?!’ Helen gasped. ‘How would that keep you safe, no my dearest that doesn’t seem like the right thing.’

And then it all spilled out. There was someone in Hermione’s world, the world Helen and Richard were unable to go into and fight within, that wanted people like her dead. She’d explained before, that having parents who weren’t magical meant there was some discrimination, but things had clearly escalated.

‘My friend Harry, he… he saw him come back. He was hurt so badly…’ Hermione broke off, clearly getting upset by the topic.

‘Poor boy, are you sure you couldn’t get him to stay here for a little while?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘His guardians would never allow it.’

Richard shook his head, and Helen could already hear his complaints about the failure of the system and how the boy needed a better home. She agreed whole heartedly, but now wasn’t the time.

‘How would us ‘forgetting’ you help, Hermione? We couldn’t just abandon you.’

‘I don’t want to be abandoned.’ She sounded so young. Hermione was always mature for her age; she knew what she wanted and she’d thought through everything. They respected those choices as much as possible. But sometimes they forgot that she was still only a teenager. Their bright, capable, compassionate teenager.

‘Not yet, but probably soon, in the next few years. Maybe before I finish school, hopefully after… things are going to get very bad. They’re going to start killing people, targeting people. And I’m friends with Harry, and Ron – Ron’s family aren’t safe either and Ron has had his fair few run ins to stop their plans, he’s quite brave you know – that I’ll almost definitely be a big target. And you will be too.’

‘So, we learn to fight them? We’re not so unskilled you know!’ Richard suggested. But Helen understood, what chance did they stand against people who could cause things to ignite without gas or fire, who could make objects move without needing to place their finger prints anywhere.

‘How would it work? Would us leaving, forgetting, would it protect you?’ Helen asked, softly. They’d never doubted Hermione before, she was methodical and meticulous, if this was her solution – even if it was wrong – they should hear her out. Hermione made mistakes, they all did, but Richard and Helen always made a point of listening to her ideas first before they suggested alternatives.

‘I think so. I could modify your memories so that you couldn’t tell them anything, and maybe you’d move away, some where far. So, they couldn’t find you.’

This all seemed quite alarming.

‘This feels like an extreme step darling,’ Richard voiced Helen’s fears.

‘I know, but I can’t think of a better way to keep you safe and keep me safe. We have all summer to work out the plans.’

Ah. There was always a weakness, something Hermione hadn’t always thought through completely. She really needed someone who could ground her in those moments of panic, remind her of herself and ideally calm her enough to bring back some rationality.

‘No, we have longer than that I think.’ Helen said, in the voice she used when she needed both Hermione and Richard to listen to her fully. ‘I see where this plan is going, and I understand the apparent need for it. I think it warrants much longer discussions. I say we give it, another year, maybe more. Especially when you’ve worked out what sort of thing _you’ll_ be doing while we’re away. We’ll need groundwork and we’ll need contingencies. And, until the last minute, I want a plan that would mean you could come with us.’

‘Besides,’ Richard added. ‘We’ve fought a lot of corrupt governments and worked against evil men in our time. I know it’s not exactly the same, but the longer we plan this the more we can share what we know about surviving this sort of thing.’

‘And,’ Helen added as a last thought. ‘It gives us time to build memories. We might not have them forever, but you will. And we’ll treasure them while we have them. If it keeps you safe, my beloved, then we will do it.’

That night, over the course of the meal and well into the evening, the Granger’s started planning their roles in a war that had only just started.


	6. Luxury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it ever ok to feel ok when other people have died?

It was finally my turn for a bath. My hands stilled in the dust, the patterns not quite formed. How apt.

‘Luna?’

‘Sorry Neville, I was distracted by the incompletion of the universe. I think it’s likely to do with Oraks.’

‘Right. Probably.’

No one ever seemed to understand how these things made up the universe, but I did, so it didn’t matter. 

‘The password is still the same as it was before all this,’ Neville continued. ‘So it’s ‘Decadence’.’

I nodded to indicate I’d heard him, and shifted myself towards the door. The sun seemed unremittingly bright, mocking us. When was the joy coming? We won. We won.

We won. But we lost.

People milled about, lots of people were asleep, Harry and the other two had disappeared somewhere. I suspected it was Dumbledore’s office, but everyone else thought it was the Gryffindor Common Room. Oh well. I was finally going to get a bath.

‘Decadence.’

The Prefect’s bathroom, disgustingly unscarred, unlike the rest of us, existed as it always had on the other side of the door. Once I was in, I heard the door click locked behind me, my own little sanctuary.

Pulling my clothes off, they were stiff and uncooperative. Dried blood and tears and sweat making them inconvenient to manage. What am I going to wear after this? These clothes aren’t going back on. Ever. Had Neville been wearing something different? Flashing images of him up in my mind, I can’t recall, I wasn’t thinking about it at the time.

I guess the clothing situation will be something menial to keep my mind off the horrors I’ve just lived through. The images all flash up because I’ve just thought about how not to think about them. Stupid brain.

The water is gloriously warm and smells amazing. I can see the layers of grime coming off and making the pool around me turn a murky grey. Gross. I pour it away and start again, now that the initial battle residue is gone.

My second bath is much more relaxing. I can lean back, surrounded by the pleasant smells and bubbles.

And in the relaxation comes the fear. The flashes of what I saw, what I did, what others did, what others stopped doing. Forever stopped doing.

No. Think of something else. Something. Else.

But nothing else comes. Suddenly I am gripped with the fear that I am doing something wrong. How could I? How could I sit in this lovely, warm, bath when so many of my friends, sparks of life, were no longer there. Shouldn’t I be wailing in penance, at their still sides? Why do I get to have the luxury of this bath when they didn’t even get to live?

What makes me different from them? _Nothing_. Why do I live and they don’t? _There is no reason, you don’t deserve it._

I’m choking. I’m dying right here. The feeling is so crushing.

‘Excuse me, miss?’

I turn to a pair of large, yellow-y brown eyes. A house elf. She’s holding fresh clothes for me.

‘Why did they die and I didn’t?’ The words are out before I’m even aware that’s what I want to say. This poor elf, she didn’t ask for this and she probably doesn’t have any answers. I don’t have any answers, and I _always_ have answers, even if others think they’re silly.

‘The world is unfair, miss.’

Was it that simple? I’ve known the world was unfair for years.

‘This feels like more than unfairness.’

‘Yes, miss. Unfairness mixed with the mean-ness of others.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you answer big questions for me. I’m Luna.’

‘Clerrie, miss.’

‘Thank you for talking to me, Clerrie.’

‘That’s alright miss, you’ve got to be nice to yourself now. You lived by chance, but it’s you choice what to do with it. Oh! Is that too much. Sorry miss. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine!’ I answer quickly, so she knows not to hurt herself. Honestly, those rules were barbaric. I agreed with Hermione on that. It was a shame she’d stopped S.P.E.W. by the time I heard of it. ‘Thank you, Clerrie. You’ve been incredibly helpful.’

‘Wonderful, miss!’

And she was gone. I finally climbed out of the bath, dressing in the soft clothes Clerrie had brought for me, I wanted to wrap myself in blankets and sleep, but it was May. Soon the days would get warmer and it would be time to sit in the sun again. Instead of it mocking us, perhaps it would warm us, wrap us in the luxury of feeling alive.

I step into a beam coming through one of the windows. Let this wish happen.


	7. Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 2.

The warm wind blew around him as he stood, looking out onto the Channel. The white Dover cliffs stood bright against dark sky as the late ferry took them across to France. They were going to _disappear_ once they were on the other side, at least that’s what he thought he’d heard them say. Dissipate? Something like that.

Mere hours ago they’d left his cousin to face whatever it was that was going on in his side of the world.

He’d tried to give him some tea, he’d said something nice about him, he’d shaken his hand. These things all seemed to startle Harry. In fact, he was sure that he’d seen a spark of fear in his cousin’s eyes when he’d stepped forward to shake his hand.

He’d done it all in front of his parents. That was a step Bella had been encouraging him to take, to have an act of defiance and see they wouldn’t reject him for just showing Harry some normal human decency. His father had ignored it, his mother had gone overboard the other way. He sort of wished they’d been angry like he expected.

Hestia and Dedalus were… different. So different from Harry. Different again from Bella, though he supposed she’d tell him that was a simple comparison and that really they were all more similar than they were different. He wished they could write to each other, but he also knew it wasn’t safe. Although, until Harry brought up the soul-eating monsters again he hadn’t realised quite how dangerous.

Hestia seemed constantly annoyed with them, which seemed fair in Dudley’s mind. Dedalus had initially wanted to ask them all about Harry, that had stopped quite quickly after some of his dad’s comments though.

They were at the edge of this new sort of life. From what he could tell, his school had accepted that his parents were moving to a new country – even if they disagreed with ‘disrupting’ his education at this stage – and Hestia, or perhaps Dedalus, and his mother were going to attempt to home-school him.

A year ago he would have rejoiced at the year ‘off’. But now… he’d worked so hard to be more conscientious about his work, he had no intention of letting that stop just because he wasn’t going to school. He’d worked so hard, and all he had to do was stick to chasing what he wanted. At least, that was what Bella said.

He turned to walk back into the seating area inside the ferry. No doubt his parents would be sitting stiff and uncomfortable while their protection scowled in thought.

Turning away from the view of England, he though of Bella once more. She said she hoped she see him again, but she didn’t think it was likely. He liked that about her, she was straight forward with her thoughts even when he didn’t want to hear them. If he never saw her again, even if she’d never really know, he’d make sure that he wouldn’t let her down.


	8. Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonfire Night with the Weasleys.

‘So, the one in the village is kind of like a little festival.’ Ginny explained to Hermione as they all trudged down the muddy lane. ‘It’s one of the few nights of the year that we were ever allowed into the village as kids.’

‘Didn’t that raise more suspicions though? Since they rarely saw you at other times?’ Hermione asked.

‘No, I don’t think so, the village has always been a bit secluded anyway. The family up the road that home-schools and then sends the kids to boarding school isn’t really that unusual. Especially as lots of the bigger fancier houses further towards the nearer town have posh families doing the same thing, and the muggles haven’t seen our house – at least not properly – so they probably think were just rich.’ Ginny seemed amused by the idea.

‘They definitely do.’ Arthur added, strolling along quite happily in his new muggle clothing. He’d been thrilled when Hermione had explained that sometimes muggle clothes came with the pockets sewed shut so he just needed to cut it with a small pair of scissors to get them open.

_'For what reason?'_

_'Honestly, Mr Weasley, I have no idea. But I don't think the people who decided to do it do either.'_

_'Fascinating! Are there other things like this?'_

Hermione had started to attempt to explain various muggle clothing habits – _‘Really, so they look like they have pockets, but they don’t at all! What’s the purpose?’_ – Ron and Harry seemed to take great pleasure in watching her not be able to answer the questions. Eventually Mrs Weasley had chided them about making everyone late and they’d finished getting ready.

‘They see the house as the sort of thing you’d expect for a family of 9,’ Arthur said. ‘I expect it looks quite grand. Also, I chat to a few when I walk in sometimes, and we spoke more when we were younger… they know I have a job in ‘The Government’ and all that.’

‘It’s quite cool really,’ Ginny smiled. ‘I bet they think we’re really posh.’

‘I think they quite like us.’ Arthur mused. ‘We used to use some of their local shops a lot, before the war especially – obviously, I didn’t, still can’t get my head around muggle money – but Molly used to sort something, didn’t you dear?’

‘Hmm, what?’ Molly had been in deep conversation with George at the back of the group and they were just catching up.

‘We used to get things from the local shops.’

‘Oh yes, had to stop when the war got going, didn’t want any targets on them. I told them I was caring for a sick relative so spending most of my time a few villages over.’ She frowned in thought.

‘Tell them you found a maggot in one and it’s taken you years to get over the shock. That sounds like something a posh person would do.’ Ron suggested cheerfully. ‘They must have seen you back over the last year and a bit too.’

‘Yes, you’re right. But just so you know, you had a poorly relative, you don’t want to talk about it.’ Molly said sternly, as though any one of them might suddenly say ‘ _no, actually I was fighting and evil wizard trying to establish blood supremacy’_. But they all nodded dutifully anyway.

They finally arrived at the large spare field being used as the setting for this year’s event. The heavy rain from earlier that week made the mid squelch loudly beneath their feet. Lucky their wellies, walking boots, and a decent bit of magic, stopped them getting too trapped in the make-shift bog.

‘Ah! The Weasleys!’ Called a cheerful looking man sitting on a large fence post nearby. ‘We missed you last year!’

‘Hi Nigel, sorry we couldn’t make it. It’s been a rough few years, but things are settling down again now.’ Arthur called back. He ushered the group towards the row of make-shift stalls, selling open BBQ hot dogs and burgers, with a sloppily painted sign about their veggie options hanging off one pole. There also seemed to be a tuck shop stall run by the local Brownies, and something that looked an awful lot like it involved darts and water balloons manned by some cheeky looking Beavers and Scouts.

‘Oooh, this year I’m finally going to have tuck!’ Ginny grinned, her modest salary of the Harpies’ reserve team finally giving her expendable income like she’d never had as a child.

‘Don’t over stuff yourself.’ Mrs Weasley warned over her shoulder as she headed over to the large piles of crates in the centre of the field to get a good spot.

After exploring around the stalls for a little while, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione made their way to the larger group just in time for the lighting of the bonfire. There was something cathartic in the heat and tall flames going up into the cloudy night sky. While the other villagers chatted and milled around before the fireworks started, the magical group just stood and watched the fire spring to life, devouring the wood beneath it and spitting embers into the air.

‘I hope they checked for hedgehogs.’ Hermione said anxiously after a little while.

‘Don’t worry, they always build it in the final hours before they start, so there’s no time for anything to try and make a home in it.’ Ron reassured her, nuzzling into her hair afterwards as a sign of affection. He’d always found her concern for other creatures endearing.

‘What are those?!’ Arthur cried out quite suddenly as a group of teenagers walked past with what looked like glows sticks. Harry and Hermione took it in turns trying to explain them to him, but his excitement over the fact muggles could make things glow _and_ change colour through potions but without the magic seemed to make their explanations go a little over his head.

‘Well, he’ll be easy to get a Christmas present for this year.’ George added to them in an undertone.

Finally, the fireworks started. Unlike with the bonfire itself, where they had stood transfixed and the muggles had not thought too much of it, the fireworks were a different story. Perhaps none of them had thought of it, or maybe just not thought it would be an issue. But it seemed none of them were quite prepared to see bright flashes of different colours dance across their faces. Vibrant reds and green, sometimes other colours too though they were less bothersome.

‘That last one reminded me of one of the ones that chased Umbridge.’ Ginny said quietly, but it was enough to snap them out of the more morose thoughts. The Weasley Wizard Wheezes fireworks held too many good memories; it was enough to keep the less fond memories bay.

‘Oh Molly!’

‘Stuart! Hello! Sorry I missed you last week, how’re the sprouts coming along? I’ve got a big order for this year.’

Stuart’s eyes scanned the group and he nodded. ‘They’re getting big! Arthur those slug-pellets you gave me worked a treat. And I can see you’ve got a lot of mouths to feed! Nip into the shop in the next week or so we can set up a big order.’

‘Perfect.’ Molly smiled but narrowed her eyes at her husband.

‘Glad you’re back, Molly, Arthur.’ He nodded at the rest of them then moved on to another family standing a little further back from the bonfire.

‘Slug pellets?’

‘Ahha, probably better to talk about that later. Molly, dear.’

The fire dwindled down, the Weasley parents said hello to some of the other villagers they were more acquainted with. The whole group got a couple of roasted chestnuts which one of the older teenage boys was now roasting in a large copper pan over the bonfire embers, with a handle so long it was almost comical.

‘You know, I always used to think chestnuts roasting on an open fire was just pretty imagery, I didn’t realise it happened.’ Harry said, cracking open one of the chestnut shells to get at the sweeter edible part within.

‘I assume the Dursley’s didn’t take you to many bonfire nights?’

‘I don’t think they ever went to any, they were more ‘a £10 box in the garden’ type people. Aunt Petunia spent weeks beforehand trying to find the cheapest box that would still look good enough to make the neighbours think they’d spent more. Although I wasn’t allowed to watch them even when they were in the garden.’ Harry shrugged at the memories as though they were no big deal, but the rest of the group flinched slightly.

‘I guess it’s time to start heading back.’ Ginny said after a pause. ‘Before dad buys the whole glow-stick stall.’

They slowly started back towards the field gate, catching some of a conversation happening further ahead.

‘Oh yes, lovely family, must be quite well off but always come into the village for their shopping. Never seem to be above coming to these events. Were gone for a few years until recently, sick relative they don’t seem to want to talk about – and why should they, difficult thing to go through. Though they used to have 7 children, with identical twin boys, only one here tonight. That’s very unusual. I’d hate to think the worst, but when it’s an elderly grandparent you just say, you know?’

The group slowed slightly, turning to wait for Mr and Mrs Weasley to join them, and lose hearing range of the group in front.

Surprisingly, it was George who spoke first. ‘They’re not wrong I guess, and they seem compassionate about it.’

‘They’re talking about us.’ Ron said more harshly.

‘Well we’re good gossip. I think Fred would have liked that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An honestly wonderful idea for 'festival' from Siân.


	9. Mentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Teddy share a moment.

‘Harry!’ Teddy’s panicked voice rang across the room from the fireplace, startling Harry from his reading. The fear in Teddy’s voice brough him back to reality very quickly though, and he rushed over to kneel by the fire.

‘Ted. What’s wrong?’

‘I just… a dementor. It was.’ Teddy hiccoughed and his face crumpled.

‘Do you want me to come, or you can come here?’

With a rushing sound Teddy stepped out of the fireplace and collapsed into his Godfather’s arms. He might be 19, but he had always been open with his affections and feelings, which in moments like these was both a blessing and a curse.

‘Was it a threat? Do I need to send Aurors?’ Harry asked, wanting to get any practical matters dealt with as soon as possible.

‘No.’ Teddy mumbled. ‘I think it was a random encounter. I was just out on a hike and suddenly it was like nigh time and so, so cold.’

‘That sounds right. You’re alright though. I’ve got you.’ Harry rubbed his back, noting that his hair was it’s ‘natural’ sandy brown, a sure sign Teddy was shaken up.

‘Yeah I sent my arctic fox at it, and it worked. Took my by surprise so I was a bit slow off the mark, but it was ok.’

‘Well done Ted, you did really well. They’re horrible things. Come on, let’s make you a hot chocolate. Ginny will be home soon and she can also tell you some of her ridiculous work stories that have happened recently.’

Teddy smiled slightly at that and they got up to head towards the kitchen.

‘I guess I didn’t realise how bad it would be.’ He admitted as he sat down at the kitchen table. Harry busied himself getting the drinks ready, Teddy always seemed more comfortable sharing if he felt he wasn’t being observed.

‘Then suddenly I was hit with memories of all the times I’ve let you or Gran down. All the cross words, all the times I’ve hurt someone I love. But this time instead of being able to rationalise it, we all make mistakes, all of that. I knew that this time everyone would stop trying to care about me and that would be it. I’d be on my own.’

Harry sighed gently, turning to hand the steaming mug to Teddy.

‘I know it’s silly.’ Teddy added quickly.

‘You can know all you want but still feel the pain, sadly feelings don’t tend to care much about silly things like facts or truth.’ He put a hand on Teddy’s shoulder as he passed, taking the seat opposite him.

‘Yeah. I just. It felt so real. And if you’d never taught me how to do a patronus I’d have been lost, sucked into those feelings forever.’

Harry took a big swig of his drink before setting it down.

‘Your father taught me how to do my patronus. I wasn’t going to wait until you got to those lessons in school. It felt right that I taught you.’

Teddy looked slightly confused. ‘I thought you were just paranoid, why wouldn’t you tell me this before now?’

‘Honestly, Ted, I know I try to tell you as much as possible about your parents. But those memories were so raw. Dementors are tricky things, still easily one of the worst things I’ve ever faced, and I don’t know. I told you that your dad really helped in my 3rd year, and I taught you how to cast a patronus, and that felt like enough at the time. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.’

Teddy had always been a forgiving person, and this was no exception. He nodded solemnly then shrugged.

‘So I’ve got you to thank and my dad to thank.’

‘Well probably your mum and Ginny too’

‘Why?’

‘They were and are excellent women who helped me become who I am and helped your dad reach the point where he could live happily, even for a short while.’

‘Gin’s right behind me isn’t she?’ Teddy asked with a smirk.

Ginny swooped down to give Teddy a quick kiss on the cheek.

‘Harry’s just mentoring you on the best way to talk about the women in your life. Reverently. With awe. Ideally a little bit of fear too. You know, healthy like.’

Teddy snorted into his drink. ‘Duly noted. I knew this was the best place to come for advice.’


	10. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 3. 
> 
> Dudley's making friends and it's causing rifts in the Dursley family.

His parents hadn’t spoken to him for almost 3 days now. He had no idea how Harry had managed those months of silence, because Dudley was going mad. And he still had Hess-J and Diggs, although keeping up his chatting with them was hardly helping matters. He’d never gone so long without his parents’ attention. Even when he was at school his mum called almost daily, and granted he’d not liked the conversations much – what was there to say every day that could possibly be that interesting and he’d want to talk to his mum about? – but still, it was nice to be acknowledged.

The worst part, or the best part from a ‘learning perspective’, was how much it was really reinforcing his understanding of how they’d all mistreated Harry. It hurt. It always hurt. Looking back and seeing all the places he’d caused harm and that most of the time it had been intentional. But Bella always told him that there was not point in berating or congratulating himself more than necessary: accept, understand, move on, do better. It had become his mantra.

‘Still not talking to you, eh?’ Hestia queried when he came in from his evening run.

‘Not so far, no.’

‘What did you do again?’

‘I think I suggested we make the most of our time here. And said I was going to ask for Diggs’ help with my history remote learning stuff. I guess they were offended I’d ask him instead of them? But they both complained about having to teach me.’

‘Parents are funny creatures, Dudley.’

‘My parents more than most.’

She gave a short sniff of laughter in response.

‘If they don’t talk to me for a long time I’m not sure what I’m going to do about my accounting and business coursework.’ He added, more glumly.

‘Well, I don’t know about the business stuff, but I did Arithmancy, which is similar to your mathematics. I might not be able to do the details, but if we both work on the concept of what it’s asking I might be useful.’

‘Thanks Hess-J. That’d really help.’

She rolled her eyes at the nickname but he caught her lips quirk a little so he knew she didn’t mind his nicknaming too much. Suddenly it dawned on him.

‘They’re mad about the nicknames.’

‘What?’

‘That I gave you and Dedalus nicknames. I’m not calling you ‘Jones and that one’ like they do. They’re mad that I like you both.’

‘Ah, how rational.’

‘I guess I need to get used to their silence then.’

‘Sounds likely, but it’s alright, between us we can muddle through to get you some good grades and enough social interaction.’

There was a pause, but Hestia waited, he knew she could tell there was something else he wanted to ask.

‘Could you… could you tell me more about your world too? Maybe make it a bonus lesson? People always say you’re scared of what you don’t understand. And I don’t want to be scared anymore.’

She gave him the first proper smile he’d ever seen from her.

‘Of course, Dudley. We’ll get through this time together, and when we get to the other side – you, me, and ‘Diggs’ – we’ll never need to be afraid again.’


	11. Craft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you make a gift for someone when you know they'll never see it?

Molly sat down and started knitting. It was mid-October and time to start getting on with the customary jumpers. Two a week for 10 weeks, covered the children and Arthur and all the children she’d gained through her own children making friends and falling love.

As usual she started with Arthur, deep blue with a strong orange ‘A’. Just like she’d made him all those years ago for their first Christmas married. She didn’t love the colours, she longed to give him a different colour for the ‘A’, but they’d been ever worse off for money back than so she’d used the yarn she had left. Now it was just tradition. Molly’s own, of course was going to be red and gold, as per her old Gryffindor ones that had originally caught Arthur’s eye. But she always made her own last, on the basis that if someone didn’t get one, it should be her.

Once she finished Arthur’s she’d move on to the children-by-choice. The ones she’d gained because they loved her children, or the ones she’d gathered on the way because they clearly needed some motherly love.

Blue and Silver. For Fleur.

White and Grey. For Hermione.

Emerald and gold. For Harry.

Perfect. She’d get those squared away. Ideally Molly envisioned a future where there were more partners, maybe grandchildren. She longed to make _someone_ a pink Weasley jumper, but it didn’t really work with red hair…

She went back to planning her knitting schedule.

A deeper blue and white for Bill. Matching Arthur and matching Fleur. Perfect. And she’d got the deep blue on sale. Then Charlie and Percy. She could use the black yarn for most of Charlie’s – his complaints that he needed to be able to wear it and not worry about soot had gone on for years – and his letter would be a brilliant red like fire. Then she could use the left over black for the ‘P’ for Percy, contrasting nicely against the deep plum purple she usually used for him.

She paused momentarily, the image of the returned jumpers from the last few years stacked in the attic flitted across her mind. She could give him one of those, but it wouldn’t be the same. She made them every year, and even though they looked the same she remembered what was happening each time. A new year, a new start, a new jumper.

She needed to check her yarn basket to work out if she had enough of the twins’ colours. She’d come back to that later, actually.

Ron would be maroon and purp– no. She paused. Ron didn’t like maroon. She felt like she’d known that for a long time, but suddenly it hit her. Ron didn’t like maroon, and she might not change colours easily, but she be damned she gave him a gift he didn’t like, especially after the years they’ve had. She paused. Navy. Ron could have navy and purple, using the last of Percy’s yarn but also bringing in a deep blue distinct from Arthur and Bill’s but still linking them. Wonderful, she’d need to order more of that.

Ginny’s would be the standard gold and blue, but this year she’d use Ron’s navy instead of any left over from Arthur and Bill. Perfect.

Now then…

George.

Just George.

Molly put down her quill as she felt the surge of tears and the ache in her throat. She would not cry. She would not. Gryffindors were brave. Someone could walk in, she wouldn’t bring them down too.

And yet the tears fell and her breathing quickened.

Would she make the usual electric blue and bright green for George, and then a space in the opposite colours, with an ‘F’ in the centre but no one to give it to?

A long time ago, around when her brother’s lost their lives in the last war, someone, though she could no longer remember who, had turned to her:

_Grief is just love that has nowhere to go._

She thought about the jumper, it had no one to go to. Just like her love for Fred had no one left to receive it.

She took a deep, steadying breath. No. She’d seen Harry when he was younger and under the thumb of his family. She’d seen Ginny after her first year. Bill after his accident. George as he struggled with a similar ocean of grief. Arthur on the loss of his parents.

There was always someone who needed love but wasn’t getting enough of it. She would make Fred’s jumper, with a big electric blue heart, and she would donate it. To St Mungo’s. To an orphanage. To someone who needed it that year. And every year after that.

Because as long as someone, somewhere, needed love, then it would give Molly’s somewhere to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my lovely friend Siân, who helped come up with this idea. 
> 
> JUMPER COLOURS: 
> 
> Deep blue and bright orange – Arthur  
> Red and gold – Molly  
> Deep blue and white – Bill  
> Light blue and silver – Fleur  
> Deep black and red – Charlie   
> Purple and black – Percy  
> Pink and purple - Audrey  
> Bright green and electric blue – Fred  
> Electric blue and bright green – George  
> Bottle green and electric blue - Angelina  
> Maroon and purple – Navy and purple – Ron  
> White and grey – Hermione  
> Gold and navy – Ginny  
> Emerald green and gold – Harry
> 
> Bronze and bubble-gum pink – Teddy. No one thought this was a good idea. Teddy insisted. He wears it with pride. Only Victoire thinks it’s cute. When he’s a bit older he mellows… and goes for maroon. 
> 
> NEXT GEN:   
> Deep blue and light pink - Victoire  
> Sea blue and white – Dominique   
> Silver and deep blue – Louis  
> Pink and black – Molly II  
> Black and purple – Lucy  
> Turquoise and bright green – Fred II  
> Bottle green and sky blue – Roxanne  
> Grey and navy – Rose


	12. Drip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny is soaked to the skin and has an idea about what will warm her up. 
> 
> A bit steamy.

Ginny stepped off into the warmth of the post-match room, grinning so wide it was starting make her jaw hurt. Her teammates chatted jovially around her, hugging and laughing as they headed towards the changing rooms for a well-deserved shower.

‘Good match.’ Harry’s voice called from the doorway. ‘Not sure you should have elbowed their keeper in the face though.'

'You know he was hit by a bludger'

'Seemed like an elbow to me Gin, you're vicious on the pitch.' They grinned at each other, knowing full well Ginny had not, in fact, elbowed anyone in the face. This game.

‘That was one time with Ron, and he deserved it.’

‘You’re a dirty cheat and you know it.’ Harry smiled.

‘After all that rain? I don’t think I’ll ever be dirty again!’

She was only half kidding. It was warmer in the post-match room, but not enough to make up for the fact she was drenched from head to toe. The water seemed to pour from her quidditch robes, and her boots made an awful squelching sound as she walked. But it had been worth it, so worth it.

‘Mmmm,’ Harry mused. ‘It wasn’t great weather for your debut match.’

‘I would have taken any weather, it was brilliant! And it meant that the people who were so determined to come out and watch me just in case I failed or chickened out because of the weather were proven wrong _and_ they got soaked too.’

‘Maybe you’re vicious off pitch too…’

‘Don’t you know it.’ She winked at him and noticed with a small amount of glee that he visibly swallowed. Her grin got even wider.

‘Did all the rain not act as a cold shower?’ She asked.

‘Well we were under the covered part of the stands… and I’m not sure even a bucket of ice water could stop me being turned on by watching you play.’ He looked her straight in the eyes and she knew he meant it. That right now he was yearning to push her up against the wall and… Well she wouldn’t mind that either. But it would have to wait. Rainwater from her hair was starting to fall down her face and drip off her nose.

‘Ok. Here’s the plan.’ She said, with an air of authority she knew would add fuel to the fire. ‘I’m going to go and say goodbye to my teammates before they leave. We’ll have a celebration of the win tomorrow once we’ve rested. Then we’re going to go home and I’m going to need a long warm shower and a massage. Potentially both at the same time.’

‘That works for me.’ Harry said, slightly breathless. ‘You definitely deserve it.’

Ginny walked up to him, giving him quick peck on the lips. Then shook her head furiously so that water sprayed off, splashing him with the cold rainwater. Harry gasped at the temperature.

‘Well,’ she said as she turned towards the changing rooms. ‘It’s not fair if only one of is… wet.’


	13. Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people grow up seemingly overnight, for others it's a more gradual process.

He’d always liked plants. They intrigued him. Gran found it a bit unusual but seemed to chalk it up to Frank having also loved the plants that grew in the Hufflepuff Common Room. She assumed that was where the Hat would also place Neville.

He liked them because they were both constant and always changing. Cycles upon cycles. He liked that they often sprouted within days but then took months to truly come into their own. Sometimes they took years.

When he got to Hogwarts and ended up in Gryffindor, he felt like he was one of those tiny shoots that had just stuck it’s had above the soil. And it terrified him. Some Gryffindor he was.

Gran was pleased, but he thought she was perhaps a bit disappointed too. Gran loved Alice, very deeply, but Frank was her son and Neville wondered if he’s hoped to have another chance with him. Especially since she’d given him the wand.

Just like the shoots of actual plants, Neville found it hard to grow in such a shadow. He was never going to be just like his father, or his mother, and yet the loomed over him. Not that he resented them at all, visiting was hard, but it was always worth it. He loved them and they didn’t choose this. No one would choose this.

Slowly, he began to live up to his parents. He wondered if he were changing direction or simply getting tall enough to reach the sunlight. And the sunlight agreed with him.

He got a new wand and Gran seemed to start to understand. He was his own person, his own life, not Frank, not Alice. A synthesis of the two. And slowly but surely, like a flower opening its petals on a sunny day, she embraced Neville for who he was.

When the Hat presented the sword of Gryffindor to him, he didn’t doubt it, he didn’t question if there was something wrong. Instead he faced the forces that had destroyed his parents.

Standing tall and strong, like a tree that had its full time to grow and mature, he made one of the final blows to a corrupt regime and the evilness of humans.

And, just like a tree, he never stopped growing, but finally he could settle into the ease of the seasons. Constant, yet changing.


	14. Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in circumstances has them trapped for the foreseeable future.

Unlike last summer, which had been uncharacteristically hot and dry, this one was more like an unreliable shower; sometimes it was so warm Lily wondered if she was actually melting, other times the heavens opened so suddenly and fiercely that there were flash-flood warnings across the country.

The summer was also a melancholy one. Her first summer for almost 8 years where, at the end of it, she would not be returning to Hogwarts. Instead, she found herself embroiled in a war which centred on her very right to exist. It wasn’t quite what she’d imagined growing up.

The boys had gotten involved too, obviously. And it was clear now that she and James were joined for the rest of their lives, even if they didn’t yet have the paperwork to prove it. They would, she felt next year seemed like a good time, just after she turned 20. Besides Petunia was already engaged and she could just imagine the uproar if Lily dared infringe on what was sure to be the most boring wedding of the century.

‘Afternoon my darling one!’ James loped cheerfully into her parent’s house, as though he had always belonged there. ‘And what muggle delights do you have to tempt me with on this glorious afternoon?’

She assumed he’d let himself in. Her dad was getting more and more unwell, but always seemed to love hearing others in the house and had heartily encouraged James to visit whenever he wanted, especially as he had another ‘special key’ just like Lily.

Petunia was now experiencing some ‘independence’ and was living in an immaculate if small flat in London, to be nearer to Vernon’s offices. Disgusting, really.

‘I was thinking of taking you to some muggle shops. Not important ones, just the ones at the edge of the estate.’

‘Ah, my Lily, how you fill my life with adventure!’

She rolled her eyes slightly, but a smile still tugged at her lips.

‘Well the weather seems good enough today, so I thought I’d let you out for a bit. Under my watchful eye, of course.’

‘You’re just trying to get me to actually quit smoking, I can tell.’

‘I’ve heard they’re bad for babies!’

‘You’re not pregnant!’

‘No… but one day I will be. And then you’ll have to stop because if I can’t have a drag then there’s no point in you having them at all.’

James tsked at her, but didn’t argue further. She called upstairs to her dad, saying they’d be back later and she’d bring him a Calippo.

‘What’s a Calippo?’ James asked curiously as they started to stroll towards the Spinner’s End ‘shopping district’ as Lily liked to call it. ‘It sounds like a spell. Should I try it?’

‘You absolutely should not try it. We’re in public in a muggle area, try it at home later.’ Lily was intrigued and mildly exasperated, James wasn’t very good at being cooped up, but hopefully eventually he would stop grabbing his wand at every opportunity. She snorted to herself.

‘What?’

‘Nothing, nothing.’

‘No go on, you laughed. Did you think something funny? About Petunia? About me? Ooh, was it about me? Was it sexy?’ He dropped his voice as he asked the last question, raising and lowering his eyebrows as though he were being suave. As though James Potter needed to _try_ to be suave. The sad thing was, if he’d been wearing her dragonhide jacket, which had once been his, she might have even fallen for it.

Instead, she just started back at him with a deadpan expression.

‘I was thinking that you need to stop grabbing your wand at every opportunity. And lo and behold, you prove me right!’

‘No Lils, you’re right. I shouldn’t grab my wand. You should grab it for me.’ He slung an arm over her shoulder despite the fact that it was really too hot to be that close to each other. She found she could bear the heat.

‘It’s almost a year, you know,’ James continued. ‘Since we almost committed an act of public indecency.’

‘Oh God. Look. I absolutely do not regret what happened, but could you stop referring to it like that?’

‘Never. Just like how I’ll never drop that you accidentally offered my dad a blow job.’

‘Sounds like I should stop offering Potter men blow jobs.’

James mimed a shocked reaction to her statement. ‘Lily no!’ was his horrified whisper. ‘How will you be able to afford enough Sleekeazy?’ As always, he managed to dodge her punch.

Finally, they arrived at the rundown corner shop Lily had been aiming for.

‘This is a corner shop. Probably because it’s on a street corner, this one isn’t but that’s not the point. They have a really good range of frozen ice lollies, and since you’re an absolute ice cream fiend, I thought you might like to try some muggle ones.’

Lily was overall quite pleased with her idea. James enjoyed experiencing the muggle things and it meant she had an excuse to do loads of activities she hadn’t done since she was a kid.

‘You always have the best ideas.’ James grinned at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead and strolling towards the shop entrance. She watched him go just a little, his jeans always fit in a really nice way…

‘Oi, stop ogling me and come and buy me ice cream.’

‘Ok firstly, who said I was paying? Secondly, as though you’ve not been glancing down my top every chance you’ve had. Equality, James.’

‘You’re such a cheapskate, taking me out, expecting me to pay. But I concede, we’ve established you have amazing tits, I have been looking.’

‘Good.’ She walked past him so he could follow her to the mini-freezers at the back.

They spent a good while perusing the options, Lily gave him a rundown of all the pros or cons of each flavour and brand. She also dutifully collected a Calippo for her dad.

After they’d paid they turned to leave, and found that the weather had turned and it was down raining so hard it was difficult to see the road a few meters from the shop door.

‘Oh damn, we might be stuck unless you want to run from it.’ Lily mused.

James however, seemed distracted.

‘Hey. Hey Lily. It’s a corner shop right. And we’re trapped. Would say we’ve been… cornered?’

For the first time ever she managed to punch his arm, but she was laughing too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A two part acknowledgement: 
> 
> \- Siân. For the excellent suggestion of a 'corner' shop.   
> \- Al-in-the-air for letting me steal her versions of James and Lily.


	15. Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 4.
> 
> It just didn't seem possible for someone so young to have done so much.

Over the weeks the spent in Spain, Dudley learnt more and more about the things Harry had gotten up to at school.

‘Is it _always_ this dangerous in your world?’ He’d asked Dedalus, the incredulity clear in his voice.

‘Well not always!’ Dedalus squeaked. ‘There are always risks with magic. But you lot get in cars and those big metal flying machines! It’s not like you’re risk averse!’

‘I… I guess.’ Dudley agreed. But he still couldn’t quite imagine forms of travel that included stepping into fires or had the risk of losing limbs which would end up possibly hundreds of miles from where you ended up.

‘But still, Harry seriously went to this much risk? And he’s already famous from when he was a baby?’

‘Oh yes. Harry Potter has done many good things, and I’m sure he’s working on it now too.’

Such confidence, in his scrawny cousin no less. The more he heard about the… Wizarding… world, the more he realised that unlike his mother – who he’d slowly come to realise had been jealous of her sister – Dudley just couldn’t see the appeal. There were enough things in the world he was part of that were scary or unfair, and magic just seemed to make it worse.

‘You think the magical world is scary and unfair?’ Hestia asked, accurately guessing his thoughts.

‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘That doesn’t mean I hate it though. Not the way I used to. I just… I’m not jealous. It’s cool and all, the magic stuff. But I don’t know if I think it’s worth it.’

Hestia seemed to appraise him before giving him a slight smile, she approved of his answer.

‘Lots of non-magical folk who find out about us really struggle with it. That we have it and they don’t.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not scared of flying in planes. And to be honest, your wands seem like ranged weapons, so if I was ever literally face to face with someone. I could probably just punch them.’

Dedalus guffawed. ‘Quite right lad!’

‘Yes, you are right. A decent number of witches and wizards, especially ones who were raised in magical culture, aren’t very good at thinking about solutions that don’t involve magic. So, if you ever did need to fight them, they almost definitely would expect a punch.’

‘Great. Obviously, I’m not going to randomly punch people.’ Dudley added. ‘It’s just good to appreciate that there are some advantages on both sides.’

Dedalus finally stopped laughing long enough to wipe his eyes. ‘Honestly D, I think you’d give Harry a run for his money in terms of immortalisation if you punched some of these dark wizards in the face!’

The idea suddenly felt ridiculous to Dudley too. Not so much that it wasn’t something to bear in mind, his frame of reference gave him some advantages and their abilities gave them some. Maybe they were better as a team rather than pitted against each other. But he also couldn’t help join in with the laughter at the thought of him just walking up to this Volde-something and socking him one.

Their laughter carried through the small villa. His mother walked in, pursed her lips at the sign of their fun.

‘Dudley, stop it.’ She snapped at him. So uncharacteristic for how she used to treat him, much closer to how he’d always seen her treat Harry. But she seemed to come back to herself quickly, ‘Come and sit with us popkin, you don’t want to learn silly nonsense from these two.’

He didn’t fight her suggestion. His parents had finally started talking to him again. ‘We need to talk about what you’re going to do after school anyway, and these two won’t be any use on that. They’ve never had a normal job.’

‘Sure.’ Dudley agreed, catching Hestia’s eyes and noting she was still close to laughter. It was not helping.

‘I don’t think I want to work in Dad’s company,’ he said as he followed after her towards the main room. ‘I’d like to build myself up, be a self-made man like Dad.’

He knew they’d like him saying that. They’d respect that. He still craved their approval. But he also knew that another reason for getting out from them would mean he could shake off some of their control in a way that definitely wasn’t possible whilst they still saw each other every day.

He would never be a cultural legend like Harry seemed to be, but he could still make his own story. And maybe one day the person he used to be would just feel like a myth.


	16. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron wants to do things the Muggle way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if there's a note, it's so I can thank the amazing Siân for letting me use her ideas when my brain doesn't come up with anything.

Ron wiped the palms of his hands on his smart trousers. He could practically hear Hermione tut at him as he did, even though she wasn’t present to see it. He smiled slightly at the thought of her.

Swallowing, he knocked on the door in front of him.

Helen opened the door with a light smile.

‘Hi Ron!’ she peered round him, clearly checking for Hermione. ‘No Hermione today?’

‘No, she, uh. Doesn’t know I’ve come to visit you today actually. I’m going out for dinner with her after this though. Could I please have a quick word with you and Richard?’

Helen smiled again, a flash of understanding passing across her face. She moved out of the way to let him in and called over her shoulder for Richard to join them in the ‘Parlour Room’. Ron smiled again, despite his nerves, he could never get over what Hermione’s parents called things most people already had normal names for.

He caught sight of Richard and found he needed to take another, steadying, breath.

‘Evening Ron,’ Richard nodded. ‘What brings you here?’

They definitely knew. He knew they knew. They knew he knew that they knew. Maybe he should have embraced death one of the many times the universe had offered it, then he wouldn’t be experiencing this.

Instead, he looked directly at Richard and Helen, sitting across from him on one of the light blue sofas that graced their ‘parlour’ room.

‘I would like to get your blessing to ask Hermione for her hand in marriage tonight.’

Ok. First hurdle down.

‘I read that it was a tradition to ask the parent’s permission – that’s not done in my world – but Hermione is just as much a part of you as she is a witch, and I wanted to honour that. So, I thought I’d ask.’

He said the second part very quickly. Fighting the urge to fiddle with his sleeves. Hermione’s parents seemed to understand that he had more to say, Helen seemed to even nod at him encouragingly.

‘I decided not to ask for your permission though. I’ve known your daughter for over eleven years now and I know she doesn’t need permission to do anything. But she – and I – respect your opinions and it would mean a lot to her as well as a lot to me if you gave your blessing.’

He was done, now all he had to do was wait. He didn’t think he’d felt this vulnerable since destroying the horcrux.

Richard and Helen were merciful though.

‘Oh Ron! Of course we give our blessing!’ Helen cried.

Richard was quick to agree with her. ‘Your friendship with Hermione was a gift we never could have imagined; you’re good for each other. You know how to rile her up, and I would recommend caution with that during the planning process! But you also clearly care deeply about her and we know she feels the same. We could not have carried out our safety plan without the knowledge you – and Harry – would be with her.’

Ron swallowed again.

‘Actually, I… I left them for a little while. Things got too difficult for me and I left. I feel like I’m shooting myself in the foot, but you need to know.’ He looked away. Harry and Hermione had reassured him many times that he was forgiven for leaving, but he was sure the shame would never leave him.

‘So?’ Richard seemed genuinely puzzled by Ron’s admission.

‘So you think I’m always there for her, and I promise I will always try to be for the rest of my life if she’ll have me, but my track record isn’t stellar…’

‘Ron,’ began Helen. ‘We know about pretty much every adventure you’ve been on. Your track record tells us that you’ll be there for her. Your track record is better than one decision you regretted when you were 17.’

Ron could feel his eyes brimming with tears that he really didn’t want to fall. Instead he looked up to quell them, and when he looked back Richard was in front of him holding out his hand.

Ron gave a still watery grin and reached out to shake.

‘You’d better get going, we all know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Does she know what’s coming?’

‘No.’ Ron smiled. ‘We have a ‘timeline’ obviously, and I’m skirting the edges of it so it will come as more of a surprise. We’re going to the French place she loves in Piccadilly. She thinks it’s to celebrate me changing jobs. And in part it is, because now I’m stepping away from that I feel like we can move forward without worrying about me getting blown up… again.’

‘Very wise.’

‘Thanks. Not something I’m usually accused of being.’ Ron smiled properly this time.

‘And that’s a shame. But it’s not wise to keep your future wife waiting for a date!’ Helen chipped in ushering him to the door before he and Richard could start chatting.

Ron waved cheerful waved a goodbye before heading back to his apparation spot.

As Ron disappeared around a corner, Richard took Helen’s hand and kissed the back of it.

‘I’m so happy for them.’

‘Me too, I wonder if she still remembers that scrap book…’ 


	17. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius reflects on the saying 'any port in a storm'.

It’s not that he wasn’t happy to be of use. It wasn’t even that he thought it was a _bad idea_ to be there. He just hated it.

His offer of Grimmauld Place for the Order had been one of practicality. His crackpot family had placed every conceivable safeguard spell on the house, and it had stood empty for so long that no one would have bothered to put a watch on it.

He’d never thought he’d be back though. Staring out of the now grimy windows that had been such a jail in his youth. Knowing that, in the end, for most of his life all he’d done was trade one prison for another. The only truly free places had been the Potter’s house and Hogwarts.

He mused for a moment on what might have become of the Potter residence. Not the one James and Lily hid in, the beautiful house Fleamont and Euphemia had raised James – and realistically, Sirius – in all those years ago. Maybe it was still there, maybe Death Eaters blasted it to bits in their search. He should look into it, it could be something for Harry.

Before he could get to work on that an emergency patronus came through. Harry and the others were at the Ministry!? Why?

He had no doubt the teens could fight, despite Molly trying to shelter them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in need of protection.

Thinking about a big home could wait.


	18. Vintage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, possibly ever, James Potter was massively over prepared for Christmas. Little did he know how much that would mean to Harry.

The house in Godric’s Hollow had stood empty got for almost 22 years now – save a short period where a rotting corpse controlled by a snake had taken up residence – and Harry had announced his attention to go back and look around in the daytime without the looming imminence of a war.

He, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had agreed on a weekend to visit and actually explore the house. Hermione had even volunteered to go into the village and chat to the inhabitants, see what stories they might have had about the family living their who had so tragically died in the ‘gas accident’.

It was a clear Spring day when they finally made it to the house.

‘Wow.’ Harry said. ‘In the daylight I think it looks worse.’

Ron and Ginny, who had not seen the house before, simply stared at the wreckage.

‘It’s less destroyed than I remember though.’ Hermione added. ‘I thought it looked mostly gone, but it looks like the damage was significant, but the house is still mostly standing.’

After steeling themselves they finally went through the, now creaky, gate and worked their way towards the door. It was still partially open, likely from Harry and Hermione’s visit years ago.

‘I think I’d rather have you guys around but not like… with me, you know?’ Harry said. Then paused. ‘Ginny doesn’t really count in that.’

Ginny scoffed but smiled. ‘Oh good, I’m glad I ‘don’t count’.’

But they did agree to split into couples and started looking around what was left of the house. Ron and Hermione started in the kitchen, but had to stop and go outside quite soon afterwards when Hermione found she couldn’t stop crying after seeing the abandoned high chair, still covered in what must have been brightly coloured toddler spoons, though the dust made it hard to tell.

Harry and Ginny started upstairs, what appeared to have been his parent’s bedroom.

‘Is there anything in particular we’re looking for?’ Ginny asked quietly as she looked around the dilapidated room.

‘Nothing that I really know about… just things that might have survived this long I suppose.’

He seemed started when Ginny immediately dropped to the floor and began reaching under the bed.

‘Uh, Gin?’

‘What?’ Her voice sounded slightly strained from her movements and lying on her stomach.

‘What are you doing?’

‘The things that have the biggest chance of surviving are things that have been protected – the things that might already have been in ‘storage’. And most people… store things… urgh. Under the bed.’

With a final huff she pulled out a few boxes which had clearly been shoved quite deep into the darkness under the old bed. ‘Yup there’s a few more under there, see if you can get Ron and Hermione, I know you didn’t want us all with you but I think it’d be better if we all took a box or two each.’

Harry called the others up as Ginny continued to pull out boxes. ‘Phew. That is always way more effort than it should be. Here, you take this one Harry, it looks like it was more carefully packed. Ron, Hermione, can you take that stack?’

They sat side by side as they started opening their respective boxes.

Ginny sighed.

‘It looks like these are some summer clothes, they must have packed them away when the weather started turning. They’re all terribly outdated now.’

‘Me too. Maybe they’ll come back in fashion, a vintage look?’ Ron suggested though Ginny looked sceptical.

‘More clothes in mine,’ Hermione added. Holding up a moth-eaten shirt with some garish patterns before pulling out a pair of long white boots with heals. ‘Wow, I forget how young they were. It’s hard to imagine any of our parents in something like this.’

Harry didn’t seem to respond to them.

He sat staring at his box. Holding what looked like an faded Christmas card in his hands. Eventually he looked up, trying and failing to blink away tears.

‘It’s a Christmas card from my dad to my mum. He seemed to write her long paragraphs.’ He gave a short chuckle. ‘Just like I do with you, Gin. There are other cards in here – older ones – I think. My dad must have kept them. But this one I don’t think he’d sent yet, he’s got a little date in the corner that says “Christmas ‘81”.’

‘What did he say?’ Ginny whispered, clearly desperate for more information but concerned about what they might find.

Harry took a deep but shaky breath.

‘ _My Dearest,  
Another year gone. It feels like an ending but it’s not. Every day my love for you grows, our little boy grows, and we get closer to being able to live our lives normally again. Do you remember, before we went moved here and Harry was still very tiny, I asked a favour of you and our friends to help my parent’s old acquaintance with their amateur portrait paintings? We had to trade him between each other to keep him occupied whilst the other sat for the painting, how easy it was back then!   
I was never able to retrieve the miniature portraits at the time, things moved to quickly, but I bothered Frank Longbottom into picking them up for me in one of our Order fire-calls (I know! But he really wanted to ‘help’ and this was the safest thing I could think of, his little boy needs a Daddy too)._’

Harry broke off for a second, his tears falling freely.

‘ _So here they are. Just for you. To remind you that we have friends and that one day we’ll be together with them again.  
P.S. Wormy’s apparently didn’t turn out well, he’d been too agitated on the day – odd for him, but understandable given the circumstances. When this is over I’ll see if I can request another.’_

They sat together, the weight of knowing that when things were ‘all over’ James and Lily were dead hung in the air.

Harry gently reached into the box and pulled out a large rectangular present. Still wrapped in a thick and cheery Christmas tree paper, though the paper didn’t seem to survive much handling.

And there they were, inside. Miniature portraits of his parents, Sirius, Remus, and two women Harry hadn’t really seen before. But from vague memories of stories from Remus and Sirius, and Snape’s memories he hazarded a guess that one was Mary Macdonald and the other was Dorcas Meadowes. Neither of them had survived the war either.

‘Finally! Light of day!’ Barked the portrait-Sirius. ‘I thought it taken _forever_ for Christmas! Wait. You’re not Lily. James! No. You’re not James either.’ The image peered suspiciously at Harry.

‘Leave the guy alone Sirius. You’re right though. He’s not me.’ Portrait-James re-joined.

Harry slammed the frames closed so that none of the portraits were visible.

‘Mate.’ Ron said, his voice was quite but held a level of intensity that they rarely heard from him. ‘Portraits like that, especially done by an amateur, they’re going to be a bit… one dimensional. They won’t be like Dumbledore’s portrait, they’ll just reflect some of the key character traits. It’s more like snapshots, they won’t be able to sustain deep conversations. But they will probably be able to understand you’re their son.’

They waited. Slowly Harry picked up the pile of frames and put them in the moleskin bag he’d brought with, in case they found anything worth keeping.

‘I don’t think I can deal with them right now, right here. But I’m not going to leave them. Will they… will they be sad that they’re dead?’

‘I don’t think so. Ginny?’ Ron asked, clearly unsure.

‘Not for long at least,’ Ginny said. ‘Especially if they’re generally painted as cheerful personalities.’

‘This is really fascinating you know.’ Hermione added. ‘How much they’ll know or understand. But they’ll almost definitely be able to chat about small things.’

Harry nodded. ‘I think it would be nice, small chats. But them not having the ability to get too deep, that seems almost a good thing, otherwise I’d get lost in them.’

‘That seems very sensible.’ Hermione approved.

‘You should keep the whole box of cards,’ Ginny said, then she smiled slightly and broke some of the tension by adding. ‘But maybe not any of these vintage clothes, eh?’


	19. Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville visits the Hufflepuff Common Room.

It wasn’t that he had been un-adventurous as a student. Anyone who knew his history would know that he had certainly pushed the limits of where he could hide in the castle during his final year at the very least. But unlike his peers, he’d been much less inclined to get into the other common rooms.

Now, as a teacher, he was sometimes asked to nip in to one – to speak to a student, to break up a rowdy party, to just make sure the students knew someone was around to talk. They’d made some changes since he was in school and now there was always a teacher near (ish) by to chat to. He found people often wanted to chat to him; and usually just to chat, which was nice. Although he did offer pastoral support as well, regardless of House.

He was heading to the Hufflepuff common room today, one of the few places he was yet to visit. Nothing in particular to do, he just knew he’d not been and wanted to check in with them. He’d had a quick chat with Professor Antwick, the new muggle studies teacher who was Head of Hufflepuff. She was a nice person and she’d happily given him the instructions of how to get in.

‘Knock in the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’ – don’t get it wrong or you’ll get a dousing!’

So he strolled towards the entrance, noting just how near it was to the kitchens, and managed to get in without messing up the pattern.

‘Oh, Professor!’

‘Hello Sir!’

‘Professor Longbottom, welcome!’

The students seemed pleased to see him. It was comfortable and plush in the way Gryffindor’s common room was. But it was much cosier, with a low ceiling and lots of hanging plants. Large windows high up in the wall looked out onto the grassy expanse out from Hogwarts, they must be one way glass though as Neville had never seen them from outside even though he was sure he’d sat under some of those trees many times as a student.

It struck him suddenly that this must be how the Hufflepuff students always seemed to have a lot of gossip – even about students from other Houses – as those trees were definitely some of the more ‘secluded’ ones where people went with their romantic interests… or if they wanted to have an argument.

‘What brings you here, Professor?’ Asked Kelsey Lynden, one of his 6th years.

‘Nothing much, I just thought I’d come and say hello, see if any of you needed a chat. Also I’ve never been in this Common Room before, so I was feeling a bit nosy.’

‘Ah well, welcome! I’m doing alright but there’s a group of first and second years over there by the climbing roses, I think one or two are a bit homesick so could do with a chat.’

‘Thanks for letting me know Kelsey. Before I go… are those trees outside… ?’

‘The snogging trees. Absolutely Sir. That’s how you know any gossip from us is the real deal.’

‘Do I need to be concerned about this?’

‘Not at all,’ Kelsey grinned at him. ‘We don’t watch or anything, we just notice who’s there and what their purpose is.’

‘This explains why rumours about Hufflepuff are so rare, I assume you all go somewhere else to have your clandestine meetings?’ Neville mused.

‘Oh yes sir. The fruit greenhouse.’

‘Wait. _My_ fruit greenhouse?’ He wasn’t alarmed by this knowledge, it just was a bit of a surprise.

‘Of course, Professor. It’s always a nice temperature and the fruit is always safely contained so it’s private and there are no hazards unlike behind tapestries or statues. Also Peeves and the ghosts rarely go there. Perfect.’

‘Hang on a second, I’ve heard a lot of you giggling about ‘fruit juice’. Especially about you and Mark Jacobs?’

‘Best to dwell on it, Professor.’ He could see her cheeks turn slightly pink at his question. ‘Anyway, lonely first years, you'd better go deal with them Sir. See you around.’

Neville sighed. You learn something new every day. Whether you want to or not.


	20. Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Harry had finally had enough. Both Ron and George were over an hour late to their meeting at the Leaky Cauldron despite the fact the shop was literally on the same street _and_ Harry could see it was closed.

He stomped up the stairs towards George’s flat. He could hear what sounded like mildly panicked voiced, joined occasionally by a more soothing tone he assumed was Angelina.

He knocked. The voices stopped and there was clearly some sort of minor struggle, before Angelina opened the door.

‘Hello Harry,’ she smiled at him. ‘I bet you’re wondering where the other two have been and why they stood you up?’

‘Yes.’ Harry said, hearing the surly tone of his own voice.

‘Ah well, come in and experience the delight of finding out.’

‘Don’t let him in!’ Called Ron, his voice strained.

‘Don’t be rude to one of your oldest friends!’ Angelina called back and Harry could see she was trying to withhold a fit of giggles.

She moved to let Harry in and he moved quickly so he could give both Weasley men an earful for their missed pub-time.

But he stopped in his tracks.

Both George and Ron sat, looking fairly miserable. Their hair emitting an orange glow that lit up the room.

‘Wow.’ Harry said. Suddenly he split into a wide grin. ‘Wow.’

‘I told you not to let him in Angelina.’ Ron moaned. ‘I’m never going to live this down.’

‘Someone else needed to see this glorious mess.’ Angelina replied in an unconcerned tone. ‘Harry, ask them what happened.’

‘You’re a cruel woman.’ Said George, his face buried in his hands.

‘Go on then,’ Harry goaded. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

‘Right, well.’ Ron began. ‘You know your family got loads of money for the Sleakeezy potion that removes frizz and stuff?’

Harry nodded.

‘Well we were working on a new product. It was going to be ‘Sneak-eezy’ and it would change people’s hair colour and maybe a bit of a change to their features to make a good disguise or at least a fun costume for Halloween or other events. But umm. We may have not quite got the potion right.’

‘You can say that again.’ Angelina called cheerfully.

‘Angelina’s working on fixing it. Apparently.’ George said again. ‘But part of me thinks she’s going to leave it until we have to show Mum.’

‘I’m cruel, but I’m not that cruel.’

‘I’m that cruel.’ Said Harry. ‘They should wear it to the Weasley family lunch on Sunday. Has Hermione seen it yet Ron?’

‘Don’t be daft. God she’d give me a lecture on a half for trialling potions on myself.’

‘It could make a good product at least, glowing hair?’

‘Only if we can figure out how to make it _stop_. But theoretically yes.’ George agreed. ‘But right now even Angelina, potioneer extraordinaire, hasn’t figured it out.’

‘We’ll get there.’ Angelina said, a bit more soothingly, she found the whole situation amusing but Harry could tell George was struggling with making the mistake.

‘You know.’ Said Harry. ‘I think you could say it’s always been like this. Everyone knows the Weasley’s have bright hair.’

Ron threw a cushion at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another instance of my glorious friend Siân providing excellent ideas.


	21. Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape can only assume that everyone must be joking.

‘Did you hear?’ Whispered what must have been a second or third year Hufflepuff. ‘The Head Boy and Girl are dating!’

Snape paused behind them as they chatted over their breakfasts. This must be some silly nonsense, Hufflepuffs really had no sense. He laughed to himself, what a ridiculous rumour.

But it was one that followed him throughout the day.

The 4th years in library talked about it, and they were Ravenclaws.

Some more Hufflepuffs mentioned it over lunch. Apparently, someone had seen the Head Boy and Girl kissing in one of the secluded spots in the grounds.

The Gryffindors did appear to be in good spirits, but he could only assume that most of them were simpletons so it wouldn’t take much. But the one time he’d caught sight of Potter the oaf had appeared normal, whereas if he had started such a rumour – and Snape was sure he would do something like that – then he usually would have been even more smug.

Overall, the ‘news’ was becoming infuriating.

Finally, after a day of catching snippets in the corridors, over meals, and from behind bookcases, he got back to his own common room.

‘Have you heard?’ Mulciber asked, his tone sharp. ‘Potter has finally fully betrayed his kind and shacked up with a _mudblood._ It’s disgusting.’

Fuck.

‘It is disgusting.’ Snape agreed, Mulciber didn’t need to know that his reasons for disgust differed greatly from Snape’s own. ‘Is it confirmed, I assumed it was just rumours fuelling the lesser students.’

‘The animals are easily amused.’ Agreed Mulciber, which was a bit rich considering the man could barely put a spell together. ‘But it was confirmed.’

‘Are you going to tell me your evidence or shall I just take your word for it.’ He snapped at Mulciber. He was known as being a grouchy and impatient person, so at least this was not out of character in a way that might raise suspicion.

‘Keep your filthy hair on.’ Mulciber scowled. He looked over his shoulder and shouted. ‘Oi, Black.’

Regulus Black moved cautiously towards them.

‘Share your knowledge.’ Mulciber nodded at him.

‘Oh, um. Yeah. Potter and Ev- the mudblood.’ Snape scowled but didn’t intervene. Lily _was_ a mudblood. She was just a good one. Regulus continued after a short pause where he apologised for almost using Lily’s name.

‘Well, they were holding hands at dinner and I heard my t-traitor brother make a joke about how they’d gotten their act together.

Snape scowled further. Clearly this boy was trying to get in with them, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it yet. He’d need to learn fast otherwise the others would sniff out his uncertainty and he’d be a goner.

‘And this isn’t some sick joke?’ Snape finally asked.

‘I don’t think so, um, sir?’

Snape almost snorted at the attempt at deference. Idiot boy.

‘Disgusting.’ Snape said again. Mulciber and Black both agreed with him, though he had no doubt Mulciber thought so because of his perceived deficiencies with Lily, and Black because he knew he should.

He took himself to bed early that night. As more supporters of the cause appeared in the common room the discussion of how awful the match was increased. He’d listened to almost an hour of the others speculating about how disgusting Lily must be, how degenerate ‘muggle females’ were, and in general how Potter could do better.

He couldn’t very well explain to them that Potter was the scum of the earth and Lily was too good for him – though he did voice his distaste for Potter and that was agreed upon by the group. Just not for the same reasons. Never for the same reasons.

Maybe Lily had become impure now. Certainly, she’d surrounded herself with others who were lesser, and she’d clearly fallen in with Potter. He and Black and Pettigrew and the Mutt surely led her astray. Perhaps she had fallen into the pits of depravity so common amongst those with muggle tendencies – he always aimed to rise above his own base, muggle, instincts – she must have succumbed. Smoking filthy muggle cigarettes, no doubt. Doing depraved acts in public. He could feel his mind slipping into his more ‘muggle’ side. Disgusting, but not if she was doing it with him instead…

He snapped out of it. He would hold out for her; she could be taught the proper ways if they could save her from such company as Potter and his ilk.

Today, the world was laughing at him. But one day he would set it right.


	22. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reflects on her final journey to Hogwarts.

For the first time since she was 12, and the boys had missed the train, Hermione was alone on the Hogwarts express.

Well, she wasn’t _alone_ alone. Ginny and Luna were with her, so were some of the others who’d chosen to return – Parvati. No Lavender. – and she knew there were people up and down the train.

But she’d been so used to being with Ron and Harry. So used to their company and jokes, their opinions and annoying habits. That being without them, both of them, felt wrong. She missed Ron more keenly, of course, but there was definitely an ache for both. An ache for the three of them, together, as a team.

She’d get through it, and once she started studying she had no doubt the ache would lessen. But it was there now.

Maybe she shouldn’t think of it as ‘alone’. On her own, maybe, but not alone. Not friendless like that first trip on the Hogwarts express when she was 11.

‘Hermione,’ Luna called out. ‘Chocolate frog? I hear you and the others are going to be on them soon.’

No, Hermione thought as she took the packet from Luna, as Ginny started telling them a story about something Harry and done during a Quidditch game in the Weasley garden. She would never need to feel alone again.


	23. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is getting out of hand.

George was trying to plough through the accounting for Weasley Wizard Wheezes when Hermione turned up in his office. Not that he didn’t want to see her, but it was certainly a surprise for her to seek him out specifically. They’d always gotten on, he felt there may have been potential for flirtation even – from him or Fred – when they were younger. But Ron was already arse over tit in love with her and whilst they liked her, he was definitely a better fit.

‘I need your help with something.’ She said, blushing slightly.

‘Ok. Sure. What do you need?’ George asked, although the pink of her cheeks filled him with a sense of foreboding. She was an engaged woman, he was a happily coupled up man, he’d need to find a way to turn her down nicely and maybe talk to Ron...

‘I want to prank Ron.’

Ok, he’d gotten way ahead of himself. Of course she was in a tizz about Ron. It was always about Ron with her. This comforted him.

‘Brilliant.’ He said, with a bright smile. ‘For any particular reason?’

‘He really surprised me with the proposal, and I want to get my own back. Also, I just think it would be fun. But I… I don’t really have any ideas.’

‘Right, and you came to the Master. I get it.’ George nodded.

After giving Hermione a few choice suggestions, she disappeared off and George laughed at himself for ever thinking she would have ever not fallen for Ron.

***

About a week later, whilst helping with some stock. Ron took George to one side.

‘Hermione properly pranked me the other day.’

‘Oh really?’ George elected to feign ignorance on these matters.

‘I know, super out of character for her. I think she’s getting me back for the proposal – which is unfair, it was a surprise not a prank! – anyway I want to get her back. But I’m a bit stuck, all of my ideas are ones she’d see coming a mile off. Any suggestions?’

George dutifully gave Ron some prank ideas he was pretty sure Hermione wouldn’t see coming, and they went back to organising the storeroom and taking an inventory.

Angelina would get a kick out of this story later.

***

Less than a week later, it was Harry who came to George asking for prank advice. It turned out that Ron’s revenge prank for Hermione had gotten Harry as well – not through any fault, just Harry being massively unobservant.

He wanted to get them _both_ back, but Ginny’s suggestions were all ‘too mean’. George snorted at that, Harry really needed a bit more nerve.

But he presented a range of prank options to Harry, as any good big brother/life meddler would. And soon Harry too was off, planning some ridiculous scheme to get back at Ron and Hermione.

‘Did you give Harry naff prank ideas?’ Ginny accused a few days later when they were grabbing some lunch together.

‘I sure did, poor bloke couldn’t stomach any of your ‘mean’ ideas.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘All I suggested was that we swap out one of their muggle DVDs for something sexual!’

George had roared with laughter, causing others in the café to turn and then start muttering about the Weasleys. There’d be a few articles about them in the next few days – some condemning, some patronising – George would have to warn their mum.

‘I’ve got _loads_ of ideas,’ Ginny continued. ‘And that one was probably my kindest.’

‘Too bad he didn’t go for that one.’

‘It’s ok,’ Ginny shrugged. ‘They’ve gathered for an unrelated movie night tonight…’

***

The next day Ron, Hermione, and Harry all appeared in the shop. Desperately looking for a way to get back at Ginny for the ‘emotional scarring’.

‘Sorry, can’t help.’ He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siân again, coming in clutch.


	24. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's parents are less than thrilled.

Following Hermione’s return home for the holidays. And their rather intense conversation about planning their own forms of resistance to the issues beginning in her world, things settled down in the Granger home. They’d agreed on giving everyone two weeks to come up with suggestions, before having a family meeting about their plans.

A few days into thinking. Richard seemed to be scowling at Hermione across the kitchen table.

‘Richard?’ Helen asked cautiously. ‘Has Hermione done something wrong? We communicate in this household.’

‘I am not sure yet Helen.’ Richard said, still looking directly at Hermione, who was determinedly ignoring his stare.

Helen also turned to regard her daughter, as she lifted the straw of her morning orange juice to her mouth.

Helen gasped. ‘ _Hermione!_ You did something to your teeth!’

‘Oh, I knew it!’ Richard cried. 

Hermione looked slightly guilty. ‘I didn’t get it done on a whim.’ She finally said.

‘You could have _told_ us! When did this happen? I can’t believe it took us so long to notice.’

‘There was a small accident… during class,’ Hermione explained. She was clearly lying about when the accident occurred, but they could tell it had at least genuinely been an accident of some sort, and they had a ‘don’t ask’ policy following some of Hermione’s pervious escapades. ‘And I got hit by a spell that made my teeth begin to extend. So, when the school nurse was fixing it I just let her go a bit longer. I _know_ you wanted me to have braces but think about how much less hassle this has been!’

‘We don’t solve every issue with Magic, Hermione.’ Richard said sternly. They’d been clear on this since they’d found out she was a witch. And honestly a little bit before then, when she could seemingly make strange things happen. ‘Sometimes doing things the non-magical way has merit.’

‘Besides,’ Helen added. ‘Braces would have done more than just move your front teeth. You might still have problems with your wisdom teeth since we haven’t steadily shifted your teeth arrangements.’

‘I know. I know.’ Hermione said a little miserably. ‘But I was going to a ball and I just wanted to look pretty.’

‘Hermione, your worth is more than your prettiness. But I appreciate the desire to look nice, and I understand your choice. I just wish you’d told us. In this house, we communicate.’ Richard reminded her, calmly but sternly.

‘Hmm, doing things the non-magical way.’ Helen mused suddenly. ‘I’m going to need to think more on that before our family meeting.’


	25. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione isn't sure what her favourite flower is.

‘You must like _some_.’ Ron insisted.

‘No. I know you want me to. And I could probably research and make some sort of decision. But I’ve never really thought much about it.’ Hermione replied with a shrug.

‘No favourite flowers?’ Ron muttered to himself but soon moved on to a different topic.

Hermione had all but forgotten about the conversation, when one day there was a knock at her office door and her assistant brought it a large bunch of roses.

She looked at the sender not and it simply read:

_For Hermione and for ‘science’. – R_

She smiled lightly and put them in a vase on her desk. Considering them, she really did quite like them and they made her office smell lovely.

A week later she got another delivery, this time of dahlias.

The weeks went on and every time, Ron sent her a different type of flower. He also never mentioned them.

‘Thank you for the flowers.’ Hermione said, after the first week.

‘What flowers?’ He’d responded.

She’d thanked him again after the next lot. He simply smiled at her but didn’t bring them up.

Several months, and many bunches of flowers, later they were out on a date and he asked casually. ‘Do you have any favourite flowers?’

‘Well, yes actually. I think I like roses best. Partially because they smell lovely, and partially because they’re only a few letters off the name ‘Ron’.’

She’d smiled warmly as he’d leaned over to give her a kiss for her answer.

‘Although I must put in a good word for tulips, lilies, and carnations.’

‘Duly noted.’ Ron nodded solemnly. ‘I like roses best too.’

***

A few years later they sat at their kitchen table, pouring over a baby name book.

‘Ok, we know she’s a girl. It shouldn’t be _this_ hard.’ Hermione insisted.

‘I think maybe we’re going too complicated.’

‘It’s not too complicated!’ Hermione cried. ‘It just has to be four letters long – I just like that – ideally one or two syllables. It should honour at least one of our parents, be meaningful to us personally beyond our parents, sound nice and not be too common but too unfamiliar.’

‘Uh hu. Silly me for saying it was complicated.’ Ron smiled and kissed her forehead.

‘How about Rose?’ He suggested finally.

‘Rose?’

‘Yeah. Four letters long, one syllable. Technically honours your dad – if we pick an M middle name then she’ll have the same initials + Weasley – we both like roses… what were your other completely uncomplicated things it needed? Oh yeah. Rose sounds nice to say.’

‘It honours you as well, ‘Ro’ for Rose. ‘Ro’ for Ron. I do like it. And I was going to suggest the middle name Matilda, so it covers dad.’ Hermione sat and considered.

‘Rose Matilda Granger-Weasley.’ Ron said.

‘Rose Matilda Granger-Weasley.’ Hermione smiled. ‘Perfect.’

‘Yes, she sure will be.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another wonderful suggestion from the brain of Siân.


	26. Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 5. 
> 
> Dudley dresses as a wizard for a Halloween party.

He’d bought a silly fake stick of a wand. He knew it was inaccurate, but at the same time that pleased him. He had on a thick cloak and a silly hat.

He parents would go absolutely spare if they ever found out. Luckily, he was an adult now, well into his mid-20s, they’d never know.

He’d also picked up a bright scarf like he’d seen hanging out of Harry’s trunk a few times – so he had a gold and red scarf as part of his outfit. He guessed it wouldn’t make sense to most people, but it was something he associated with magic at least.

He stood at the side of the community centre, watching over the group of kids who had all come in their various garb. He’d been volunteering at the community centre for a few years now, alongside his Service Administration Co-Ordinator role in some nearby offices. He’d explained to his friends what he did multiple times but, honestly, he wasn’t even sure sometimes so he was never surprised when they couldn’t really remember.

‘Dudley! Nice costume coach!’ Called one of his boys from weekly boxing. They’d all turned up, and he was proud to see them mingling and being a bit more socially confident than they had been when he’d first started coaching them all.

Other volunteers chatted to him throughout the night, and they all carefully monitored the children having their allocated amount of Halloween ‘treats’.

Dudley always felt a pang, when he had to tell the children that no, they could not have another sweet – or, on food parcel day, tell parents that it was all they could give – limited resources and donations meant they only had so much. He hated that there wasn’t enough for them, when he had been given an overabundance as a child. If only he could go back and get his unnecessary things so that they could go to people who actually needed them.

‘Interesting scarf.’ Said Holly Fenchurch, a new-ish volunteer with the centre. She was dressed up as some sort of devil with the pointy red ears. Dudley had chatter with her a few times, and she seemed nice, down to earth but still fun. She also had the most beautiful dark hair, Dudley could stare at it for days – he wouldn’t, that would be weird, but sometimes he wished he could.

‘Thanks. I wanted something to complete the outfit.’ He nodded.

She squinted at him slightly. ‘Do you _know?_ ’ she asked cautiously.

‘My cousin used to wear it at school.’ Dudley hedged his bets, if she was asking what he thought she would asking, this would confirm. If she was asking something completely different, his answer gave nothing away and only risked making him sound a bit stupid.

‘My brother had one of the other ones. But he told me they came in other colours.’ Holly said, still cautious.

‘I didn’t know for ages that there were other colours.’ Dudley said. ‘But I met some people who had been to the same school and they explained. Your brother went, but not you? I don’t remember it being a boys school, I assume your parents were surprised when he went?’

‘No.’ Holly said a little bitterly. ‘No, my parents were surprised when I didn’t.’

‘Oh.’ Said Dudley. There was a short pause before they both spoke at once.

‘Sorry, I put my foot in it I had a friend called Bella who also didn’t go despite her siblings going.’

‘Sorry, it’s not your fault.’

They paused again to look at each other.

‘Would you maybe, like to go for coffee sometime?’ Dudley asked, his heart leaping to his throat. ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you for a little while, not just because of this.’

‘Yes.’ Holly agreed almost immediately. ‘I’ve been wanting to have a proper chat with you as well – not because of this – I just really like boxing.’

‘Oh really?’ Dudley grinned, and the topic moved on to their favourite matches. They could revisit the topic of schools later.


	27. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of the Granger Family Meeting.

They sat around the dining room table. Each had some notes. It was time for a Granger Family Meeting like none before.

These were not necessarily uncommon occurrences, but neither were they ‘regular’. They usually happened when some life altering decision came up. The first one was about having a baby, the second about which primary school to send Hermione to, and then as she got older they involved her: there had been an intense Family Meeting about her moving from packed lunch to school lunch when she was eight.

They were never nasty, just forthright and open. Which could rub people the wrong way. Which is why there were ground rules; no personal attacks, no ridiculing, take a break if needed.

Now 15, Hermione had a great deal more opinions and the ability to argue them more coherently than she had at the last meeting (about her going to Hogwarts, they had all been on the same page for that one though, it was more of a practicalities GFM.)

They debated the ins and outs of the Plan.

‘We’d need a fail-safe for getting our memories back.’ Richard had insisted.

‘But if I die wouldn’t be better if you don’t know?’ Hermione asked.

‘I can’t believe we’re discussing this possibility,’ Helen had been quite ashen faced at points. ‘But no, I would want to know. Missing you is better than not having you, I won’t back down on that.’

‘Ok so we make it so I can release it when I come and find you, or it’ll break if I die.’ Hermione had reluctantly agreed.

‘We also need to think about if you can control the break. I wouldn’t want to be doing a root canal and suddenly remember I had a daughter and know that me knowing meant she must be dead.’ Richard added.

The discussion when on for hours, well past midnight and long into the morning.

There were lighter moments.

‘Do we get to pick our new names?’ Richard asked, brightly. ‘I want to be Wendel.’

‘Wendel?’ Helen chided. ‘What on earth for?’

‘Just seems like a good in hiding name. Also, it was the name I gave the police once during a protest, I think it was time Wendel saw the light of day again.’

Hermione had rolled her eyes. ‘Fine dad, you can be Wendel. Mum?’

‘Hmm, Monica. You know I like Friends far too much for a woman my age.’

‘You’re both ridiculous.’ Hermione had informed them, fighting to keep the smile off her face.

The Plan was taking shape, none of them were happy about it, but they were at least a united front.


	28. Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley Redemption Part 6.
> 
> A treat for his parents, not so much for Holly.

Dudley and Holly got on like a house on fire. They shared many of the same passions and introduced new ones to the mix. They both had middle management jobs and loved their volunteering. And she had never held his childhood against him. They’d chatted long into the night about magic, having one foot in each world, and their views on how they’d behaved or been treated.

Holly still spoke to her brother, but not her parents, who had struggled with their ‘squib’ daughter.

‘Do you think we’d have magical kids?’ Dudley had mused before becoming flustered. It was only their 4th date. But Holly, steady and sure of herself, had taken it in her stride.

‘Maybe, it’s in your mum’s family and it’s in mine. But perhaps not since I clearly _don’t_ have it despite the lineage. Maybe in the future we’ll need to discuss how we’d handle a mixed magical household, what if we have one that is and one that isn’t? I’m not having an only child, so we’ve got to prepare.’

‘I don’t want an only child either,’ Dudley agreed. ‘But also no favouritism.’

‘No favouritism.’ Holly affirmed.

‘Would you… like to meet my parents? They’ve invited me for tea in a few weeks. They aren’t the best people, but they’re who I have.’ He knew it was a big ask, he’d told Holly all about them.

‘I’d would like to meet them. I don’t agree with any of how they treated your cousin or how they parented you. But I would like to get to know them a little bit at least.’

Dudley smiled with relief. ‘We can do something actually nice the next day.’ He offered.

‘Do I get a choice, or is it a compulsory treat?’

‘Definitely a compulsory treat.’ Dudley laughed. ‘You don’t get a choice, I must make it up to you for making you meet them.’

‘Tosh. You didn’t make me do anything. But I will accept the treat nonetheless.’ She smiled.

Dudley rang his parents the next day to say he was bringing a guest, and no, could his mum please not refer to her as a Lady Friend.

***

The day arrived sooner than he’d imagined it would. He stood beside Holly and rang the doorbell of Number 4, Privet Drive.

‘Dudders! How lovely to see you, and you must be Holly, come in come in!’ His mother was all charm. She fawned over Holly, taking her coat and getting drinks orders.

He shook his dad’s hand and introduced Holly as well, his dad was brusque but seemingly approved in the first instance.

They sat at dinner and listened as she explained her role as Interim-but-hoping-to-be-permanent Team Resource Manager.

‘Holly is so wonderfully normal!’ his mum ‘complimented’ when Holly had nipped to the loo. ‘I did worry, you know, when you got all friendly with some of _them_ that you might go a bit off the rails. But she’s so perfect, nothing odd about her.’

Dudley was frustrated at her words, but he still couldn’t bring himself to actively disagree. What good would it do? Holly walked in only a few moments later, she’d undoubtably heard. He felt the same rise in him, he couldn’t even defend her.

‘Actually,’ Holly said. ‘I am a bit odd. But not in any ways that you need to worry about.’ Her tone was cheerful but there was a sharper undercurrent.

‘Sorry, Holly.’ Dudley said. ‘She’s right mum, no one is completely ‘normal’ whatever that means, but I do agree that she’s perfect.’

His mother began to simper over what a gentleman he was.

‘Good job she’s not one of those at least.’ Vernon chimed in. Clearly the wine had been a bit much for him to hold his tongue.

‘Vernon!’ Tsked Petunia. ‘We have company.’

‘I am not one of them, that’s true.’ Holly agreed, boldly. Dudley thoroughly admired her. ‘Some of my family is though, and I am quite fond of them.’

Dinner ended quite quickly after that, although his parents did invited them both around again in the future, which Dudley took as a not completely damning sign.

‘I am so sorry. I know they’re… a lot. We don’t have to see them again.’

‘They are a lot. But as stated, they’re all you’ve got and I didn’t hate them. I just found them… a tad overwhelming. It’s ok Dudley. We all have relatives we wish we didn’t, and you’d have gotten a much frostier reception from my parents. If you ever do meet them… well maybe I should start apologising now just in case.’

Dudley laughed.

‘I wasn’t kidding about having children with you one day you know.’ He said.

‘I wasn’t kidding about it either. Not yet, but one day.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘Now. Tell me, what is my compulsory treat?’

‘I got us tickets to the Thai Boxing tournament tomorrow. I know it’s not our normal style, but you are absolutely obligated to come with me, no ifs or buts.’

‘Oh no! Not one of my favourite fighting styles! How will I cope!’

They laughed together as they walked towards Dudley’s car. He knew he had a future with her, and he knew it would, at the very least metaphorically, magical.


	29. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small parenting struggle.

Baby James was crying, _again_.

Babies cry. Ginny knew this. She thought she’d prepared for it, but here she was, overwhelmed and exhausted as she stared at her two-week-old son.

‘What is it?’ She demanded, tearfully. ‘What do you need? Why don’t I know?’

James continue to wail and wriggle. Ginny sat on the floor with James in her arms and sobbed along with him.

‘Gin?’ Harry’s voice called over the baby’s cries. ‘Ginny!’

He found her and pulled her into him, his steady arms enclosing her in his warmth. One hand resting over the cradled James.

‘Talk to me, Ginny.’ He pleaded. They were close enough together that he no longer had to shout over James’ cries, despite their loudness.

‘I don’t know how to look after my own child.’ She whispered. Her eyes closed against the tears of shame that came from such an admission. ‘I don’t know what he needs or how to help him.’

‘I don’t think that’s true, Ginny. I think you’re worried that you don’t and you’re overwhelmed by his crying.’

‘I’m his _Mum_ , Harry. I should be able to handle his crying!’

‘There are no ‘shoulds’ here Gin. You’re ok. What you need is sleep, and maybe some tea, and possibly some time with Luna.’

‘You want me away from him?’ Ginny’s voice was filled with panic.

‘Not at all, I want you rested and happy. I’m here to support you and him, you’re a fantastic mum, you just need to have a little time to yourself.’

She sniffled. ‘I want a shower.’

‘Ok.’ Harry soothed. ‘I’ve got him, you go have a shower.’

Ginny handed James to Harry, and the baby continued to cry. Harry changed him, bounced him, tried to give him the bottle they kept on hand for when James needed feeding and Ginny wasn’t around. No luck. Seriously, what did this child need?

Ginny returned a little while later, looking cleaner and a bit more refreshed, holding two large mugs of tea.

‘I _think_ ,’ she said, cautiously. ‘He needs some fresh air.’

‘You know best.’ Harry said giving her a warm smile as he took the tea. ‘I’ll get his pram ready. Shall we take the tea on the go? You can transfigure the mugs?’

‘Oh Merlin no, I don’t think I should transfigure anything on this little sleep. I’ll just transfer it the muggle way.’

After about 45 minutes – no such thing as a quick turn around with a small baby – they headed out of house for a short walk. Within minutes James’ cries had stopped. A little while later he was soundly asleep.

‘Maybe we should have put him in the sling?’ Ginny mused.

‘Nah, it’s nice to not have him on us. I love the snuggles, but we are our own people too you know.’

‘I know, I just… forget sometimes.’

‘If it ever gets too much tell me.’ Harry said, reaching out and taking her hand as he pushed James along with the other. His tea long finished and tucked in the storage area of the pram. ‘And if it’s ever so overwhelmingly too much, tell me, tell your mum, and tell the mid-witch. We won’t hold it against you.’

‘I know.’ Ginny nodded. ‘I do. I know what I need. And I’m so glad you’re here with me to remind me to actually act on that knowledge.’

‘You’re incredible Gin, and whatever help you need doesn’t take away from that.’

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand. She loved him and James. Being a new mum was so much tougher than she’d imagined it would be. But she knew as long as she had them, she had everything she needed.


	30. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone flies the nest eventually.

Ginny packed up her old bedroom. Some stuff to the attic, some stuff to _her_ flat. Some stuff to Harry’s place. He’d wanted her to move in with him, and she saw the appeal. But she needed to be on her own first, also having her own place near Wales made it a nice middle ground between Harry in London and training with the Harpies.

‘Oh Ginny,’ Her mother was quite emotional about the whole thing. ‘The last child to move out. My baby!’

‘I know Mum, but I’ll be back, just like the others. Probably more often than when I was at school you know.’

‘But it won’t be where you call ‘Home’ it’ll be ‘my parent’s house’. Oh I feel so old.’ Molly cried.

Ginny appreciated what her mum was feeling, it was only natural. But it was tiring. She’d always been the youngest, the baby, and apparently her moving out was the same.

‘You’re not that old mum.’ She said weakly. Thankfully, Molly was too caught up in her own drama to hear Ginny’s tone.

‘And Harry will be helping you unpack? What about your brothers?’

‘Yes mum, they’ll all be helping. Especially since you insisted.’

‘Wonderful.’ Molly nodded with satisfaction. Ginny took her final box, promised she’d be back for food tomorrow with the rest of the family, and left.

She arrived at her new flat. One bed, combined kitchen and living area, one bathroom with a nice big bathtub.

Her brother’s and Harry were no where to be seen. She’d told them, in no uncertain terms, that they _could_ help her move in, but only once they’d given her a bit of time on her own in the new place. They’d seemed a bit confused but agreed anyway.

She sat on one of her boxes, looking around the space that was, officially, hers.

She felt a freedom explode within her, just like it did when she was flying. She had her own space, she was a grown up. So many times she’d worried she’d never reach this point. Never be an adult or know freedom. She was even looking forward to cooked her own food, though George told her that the thrill of that wore of quickly.

She smiled around her, relatively small, apartment. Yes. This would do for now.


	31. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long hidden item shows up.

Draco never enjoyed visiting Hogwarts all that much. He didn’t hate it, and he certainly had some fond memories of the place; but they were always clouded. By who he had been, and the ideas he had supported, and the ‘friends’ he had surrounded himself with.

Two years married to Astoria and she had sparked so much thought, so much consideration and self-reflection. They were trying for a baby now, and he was finally reaching the point where he felt he could give a child a real, solid, parental figure.

He still saw his parents, his mum more often, and he loved them. But he never wanted his child – maybe children – to feel or be treated the way he had as a child.

He visited the castle only rarely, usually to talk to a professor about their work and some research, or very occasionally to talk about the War. He hated talking about it, and he hated showing them his mark, but they needed to know about his part as much as they needed to know about the others. Let his testimony be a warning and an encouragement to do better.

The only small upside was that he was at least cordial with people he had previously despised, and they seemed to not hate him despite it all. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but regardless it was nice to not feel hated.

‘Ah, Mr Malfoy, welcome, thanks for coming today.’ Headmistress McGonagall greeted him. She had always been fair, and he appreciated that now he was an adult.

‘Professor.’ He nodded in greeting.

‘Follow me. We’ve put it in a secluded area.’

They walked next to each other to their destination, exchanging the obligatory small talk – how was Astoria? How was term going? – all of those things. Eventually they arrived at an empty classroom.

In the middle stood a large object covered with a sheet.

‘I would recommend, Mr Malfoy, that you don’t use it. But I suspect that will be difficult for your evaluation. You’re aware of its purpose.’

‘I am. It is a shame that I cannot avoid looking into it, I agree that it would be preferable to not. But I do need to give it a proper examination and that will involve uncovering the glass.’

‘Would you like to be left to it? I can ask one of the kitchen staff to bring you something in a little while?’

‘That would be perfect, thank you Professor.’

McGonagall nodded and left the room. Draco turned back to his task. An expert on magical objects – dark and benign – had his parents been setting him up for this job his whole life? He scoffed at himself, of course they hadn’t, Malfoys didn’t _work_. But he enjoyed his job, using his knowledge from school, home objects and Borgin and Burkes to make something of himself. He liked his family’s wealth, he wasn’t going to deny that, but he also liked having his own independent income.

He pulled the sheet down.

A large, ornate mirror stood before him. But his reflection wasn’t quite of him, as he stood in front of it.

Instead, he saw himself, maybe a little older, with a smiling, pregnant Astoria by his side. He had a child in his arms too, a little boy – he’d not want to admit that he wanted a son first, it seemed petty when really all he wanted was a healthy baby – and then he noticed.

The Draco in the mirror had no tattoo on his arm. His innermost desire was that the past had never happened. He sighed bitterly, well that was no use, he couldn’t undo it no matter how much he wanted.

He busied himself doing his actual tasks, assessing some of the enchantments, making notes on some of the alchemic methods which had been used to create the frame and the ‘silver’ behind the glass. He was almost certainly going to recommend it be destroyed.

He stopped for his tea and sandwiches brought from the kitchen.

Finally, he looked back at himself in the mirror. The reflected image hadn’t changed. Draco found he didn’t care what the mirror told him.

‘All perceptions are as mirrors’ Astoria always said. His work on himself and his motivation to change how he perceived others so that he could better understand himself, were all more worthy and accurate reflections of him than this piece of junk.

He threw the sheet back over the mirror. Magic wasn’t all it was cracked up to be sometimes. Give him a muggle mirror any day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final shout out to Siân for help with this idea, and to Mr Inareskai who gave many, many silly suggestions before actually helping with this one.
> 
> If anyone made it this far, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Sian is a Gryffindor. I am a Hufflepuff. Mr Inareskai is a Ravenclaw. Al-in-the-air is a Slytherin. A truly inter-House effort.


End file.
